


Through the Eyes of a Child

by Princess_Cordelia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adult Draco Malfoy, Adult Hermione Granger, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:07:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 30,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25830304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princess_Cordelia/pseuds/Princess_Cordelia
Summary: It has been eight years since the war and Hermione has still not been able to restore her parents' memories. Out of options - and money - she finds an ad in the Daily Prophet: Narcissa Malfoy is looking for a governess for Draco Malfoy's son, Scorpius. Of course, Hermione would never even consider applying for the job. If only there weren't the temptation of Malfoy manor's private library, which could help her with her research, and the hefty salary to solve her second problem...
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 287
Kudos: 420





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story popped into my head recently and I felt like I had to get it out of my system. I have no idea where it will take me, and I have some crazy stuff going on right now, so I don't know when I'll be able to update, but I thought I'd share. I hope you enjoy, let me know what you think!
> 
> Oh, and I don't own Harry Potter.

Hermione took a last look around her flat so see if she had forgotten anything. Bags, books, Crookshanks, all her research… _her dignity and common sense?_ A voice inside her head supplied. She shook her head to shut it up. After all, this was not the first time these thoughts had crossed her mind, nor would it be the last, she expected. But alas, it was no use, she had made her decision and she would stand by it.

With a sigh acknowledging the finality of the situation, she bent down to grab Crooks’ cage and her magically extended bag and walked out the front door, looking it behind her. She placed the obligatory wards on her flat, making sure it was protected during her absence and turned on the spot to disapparate.

The sight of the large manor made her shiver as she arrived at her destination outside its large front gates. It looked nowhere near as gloomy as it had the last time she had been here, but it brought back unwelcome memories nonetheless. Memories of pain and blood, overwhelming fear and the sound of mad laughter… Again, she shook her head, reminding herself why she was here. _You helped defeat the most powerful dark wizard ever known, surely you can do this,_ she reminded herself and approached the gates. They opened of their own accord as she approached, but she wasn’t surprised. After all, it had been agreed upon that the wards would be altered to permit her.

It was a really nice day for March, the temperature mild and the sun shining brightly. The walk up to the house – which was more of a hike, really, with the sheer expanse of the grounds – led Hermione through the beautiful park that surrounded the manor. She saw no trace of the white peacocks she remembered roaming the grounds back in the day. Not that she missed them; she had found them garish and, to be honest, a little creepy back then. Now there were just large meadows all around, with big trees scattered naturally across them and lining the way. It was really quite beautiful and reminded her a little of the grounds at Hogwarts. She could just about see herself, reading _Hogwarts: A History_ with her back leaning against the bark of one of the oaks, Harry and Ron lying next to her in the grass, discussing the latest Quidditch strategies…

All too soon, however, she was nearing the manor itself. She was glad for the brief reprieve her walk up here had afforded her, but now there was no more pushing it off. Hermione raised her hand to knock on the portal, her bag and Crooks’ cage floating in the air next to her, but again it opened as if expecting her. Had they seen her coming? It was eerie, being let into the mansion without seeing a single soul, it reminded her of the stories of haunted houses the Muggles would tell. Well, not just the Muggles, almost the entire wizarding community still believed the shrieking shack to be haunted, even though she knew for a fact that it wasn’t.

Lost in thought, she crossed the threshold and found herself in a foyer that, to her relief, didn’t resemble the place she remembered at all. Yet she had barely any time to register her surroundings, as all her attention was currently focused on the two inhabitants of the place. One was a tall man with platinum blonde hair, grey eyes and the posture of an aristocrat. The other was his spitting image, only he barely reached the first’s hips, as he was but five years old.

“Granger,” the first greeted, neither his voice nor his face betraying any emotion.

“Malfoy.”

She hadn’t seen him since the war, almost ten years ago. He had changed, obviously, he was taller now, his hair no longer slicked back the way he wore it in school and his frame no longer skinny, but broad. His shoulder, especially. And his chest. He was not wearing robes, the wizarding world having since evolved to adapt to a fashion that was much closer to what Muggles wore, and his attire looked like a fancy, if a little old-fashioned, suit. Hermione had no doubt that it had cost more than the average wizard’s monthly salary, but she had to admit that it accentuated his features quite nicely. Damn, how did he get so in shape? She was startled by her own thoughts and quickly focused on his face instead. It had been a little to pointy for her liking when he was younger, but she had to admit that he had grown into the look. His aristocratic nose and the sharp lines of his face now only accentuated his handsomeness. Wait, handsomeness? Did she just call Draco Malfoy handsome? Or think it, at least? She must be more nervous than she thought. But then: he was handsome, wasn’t he? It didn’t mean that she liked him, but objectively speaking…

Her attention went back to his eyes and she realized that they were no longer as guarded. Instead, there was a trace of – amusement? Embarrassed, she noticed that neither of them had said anything in what must be a minute or so. Oh Merlin, had he noticed her sizing him up? She hoped not, or she would have to find a hole in the ground to sink into, and quick.

Trying to cover up her embarrassment, she diverted her eyes to his son.

“And you must be Scorpius,” she said kindly.

He only stared at her.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” she tried again. “I’m Hermione, as you probably know.”

Malfoy cleared his throat at that. “My son will address you as Miss Granger. You are to be his governess, not a friend, after all.”

She blushed, partly for being reminded of what was to be her position for the foreseeable future, and partly because he had reprimanded her in front of his son. Yet she quickly regained her composure and smiled at them. “Naturally. Well, Scorpius, I’m looking forward to working with you. I’m sure we will get along splendidly.” He still didn’t say anything. His incessant stare was starting to make her uncomfortable as once more, silence fell over the room. Malfoy’s eyes flashed for a second.

“Scorpius.”

The mention of his name alone was enough to have the five year old stand to attention. His face still betrayed wariness for her, but now there was also undeniable respect for his father that bordered on fear. He straightened his back.

“Hello, Miss Granger. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

He didn’t mean a word of that, of course, but Hermione was nevertheless grateful that the silence was broken, even though she wasn’t sure if she liked the way Malfoy interacted with his son. Perhaps it was just her presence that made for the stiff and awkward atmosphere.

Another minute passed.

“Well,” Malfoy said then. “Now that you have introduced yourselves, let me show you to your quarters – Tinky!”

A house elf appeared with a _pop_. “Yes, Master?” It was wearing a piece of clothing that resembled a robe, clean, and with the Malfoy crest on it. Hermione suppressed an indignant huff at the thought that Malfoy still had house elves. It wouldn’t help to make her situation here more difficult than it already was by getting in a fight with her new employer on her first day. She’d have to save that argument for later.

Malfoy had meanwhile instructed the elf to get Scorpius ready for lunch and the two of them had disappeared to what must be the South wing of the manor. Malfoy himself was already starting up the stairs that led in the direction of the East wing and Hermione hurried to keep up with him. He didn’t spare a glance at her, but started talking as soon as she had caught up.

“Your quarters are in the East wing, Scorpius and I inhabit the South wing of the manor. Lunch will be served at noon, which will give you an hour to settle in and freshen up. Today, there will be no lessons as of yet, I expect you to start working with Scorpius by tomorrow. After lunch you will be given a tour of the house and instructions for your position here. The rest of the afternoon will give you plenty of time to get acquainted with my son. Here we are.”

He stopped in front of a door like any other they had passed on the way.

“Feel free to make yourself at home within your quarters. I just expect there to be neither irreversible changes, nor irreversible damage. Your familiar” – he scowled at Crooks – “is allowed in the grounds and your quarters only. Should you require anything, call for Tinky. She has been instructed to wait on you. I will see you at lunch.”

And with that, he turned around and left, leaving Hermione standing in the corridor, staring after him. He was so controlled and indifferent, so cold! The awkwardness of the last minutes caught up with her and made her, once again, question her life choices as she entered her room.

Only the term ‘quarters’ was indeed much more adequate, as she realized once she saw where she was to live. Right now, she appeared to be standing in a large sitting room. It was about the size of her flat at home, filled with beautiful ancient furniture, and decorated in dark red. She was surprised at the color, somehow having expected to see only green in this house and wondered if it was a coincidence that the room was red, of all colors.

On the left side of the room, there was a large fireplace and a cozy looking rug in front of it. A large sofa, a table, and two armchairs were grouped around it. The far end of the room was lined with windows that looked out onto the backyard of the manor, big double doors leading onto a large balcony. There was also a desk where she could see herself working while looking out into the gardens. On the right side, there was just a door which she supposed led into the bedroom. What delighted her most, though, were the copious empty bookshelves on the walls that just waited to be filled with her private collection.

Mouth agape, she opened the door to the bedroom. It was decorated in the same color scheme. The room was dominated by the large four poster bed which looked big enough to fit an entire family. Here, too, windows dominated the one wall and there was another double door that led to the same balcony that was accessible from the sitting room. The bedroom held a small fireplace, a bookshelf for a small selection of books, a nightstand and the largest wardrobe Hermione had ever seen. She set down her bag and let Crookshanks out of his cage. He immediately started sniffing around the entire room, checking out his new living quarters while Hermione inspected the bathroom.

It was, naturally, also huge. She marveled at the luxurious shower and the small pool of a bathtub for a bit before she returned to the bedroom to unpack. The rooms were beautiful. She stepped outside onto the balcony, letting in the fresh spring air and enjoying the view of the gardens. At this time of year, the winter had not yet retreated, the trees were still without leaves and the flower beds without color, but she imagined it would be gorgeous once everything started blooming. It couldn’t be long now, she thought, noticing the hint of green on the bare trees. A promise of new life that was about to begin. Hermione took in the world preparing for a new beginning, took a deep breath, and braced herself for her own new start.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I was really happy to see that some of you seemed to like this story, so here goes the second chapter! Hope you enjoy!
> 
> (Also, depending on where you live, maybe have yourselves a big glass of water while you read this. Phew, it is hot!)

While she unpacked, Hermione let her thoughts wander, remembering the circumstances that had brought her here. The second wizarding world war had ended eight years ago. After the dust had settled, Hermione had travelled to Australia to seek for her parents, hoping to find a way to restore their memories. She had found Wendell and Monica Wilkins, glad to see they were alright. Without an idea on how to restore their memories, though, she hadn’t dared approaching them directly, so she had watched them from a distance, looking for clues that they noticed something amiss about their lives. She found nothing, but eventually Monica started recognizing her, having met her on various occasions, and they had formed a loose friendship. Hermione had told them that she was a student right out of high school who was travelling before starting University. Being so close to her parents, seeing how lovingly they treated her, and yet knowing that they had no idea who she really was had been one of the most painful things Hermione had ever experienced.

Eventually, she had had to go back, due to start her eighth year at Hogwarts, a one-time chance McGonagall had offered to all those affected by the war. She had been reluctant to leave the Wilkins, but she had known that the only way to ever really get her parents back was to find a way to restore their memories and as the Hogwarts library had never failed her before, she felt it was a good place to start.

So she had started her research on memory modification while simultaneously throwing herself back into the activity she loved most: learning. She had eventually gathered an impressive amount on knowledge about memories, amnesia, and the brain, and she had also managed to still graduate at the top of her class. Yet restoring her parents’ memories proved to be nowhere near as easy as she had hoped. The brain was a complicated organ, one that neither Muggles nor wizards fully understood, and the risks of messing with it were tremendous. That was why Hermione had turned down the many tempting job offers she had received after her graduation, choosing instead to attend a Muggle University to study Neurology, Medicine, and Psychology. All her free time had been dedicated to research in the wizarding world, combing through the library at the Ministry of Magic, travelling around the world to meet specialists, and of course visiting the Wilkins as often as she could.

Now, eight years later, she had hit two dead ends simultaneously: one, the money that she had been given along with her Order of the Merlin, first class, for defeating Voldemort, had run out, and two, she had combed through all public wizarding libraries she knew. That had been the point when she had seen the ad in _The Daily Prophet_. Narcissa Malfoy was looking for a governess. Hermione had laughed at the article at first, thinking it was way too late for somebody to try and rein in Draco, but had been curious to find out that it was in fact her grandson that Narcissa was searching a governess for. Hermione hadn’t kept track of the Malfoys after the war and she hadn’t had any idea that Draco Malfoy was a father. The Malfoys had gotten off relatively easy after Voldemort’s defeat, or at least that was what most people thought. Lucius Malfoy had been issued a life sentence in Azkaban where he died only a few months after his trial. Narcissa Malfoy had been placed under house arrest for three years as she had played a more passive role among the Death Eaters, and Draco Malfoy had been sentenced to six months in Azkaban for his crimes in the war. The reason for their relatively mild punishments had been Lucius’ willingness to give up his former Death Eater comrades, the fact that Draco had barely been of age, and Harry’s testimonials at their trials. He had told the Wizengamot about Narcissa’s and Draco’s help for him, thereby helping their case.

After their house arrests had ended, Narcissa and Draco had vanished from the circles of society. Hermione was aware that Draco had taken over the family’s firm and that they had paid vast war reparations, but other than that, she hadn’t paid them any mind. Until she saw the ad. For some reason, it had ghosted around in her head for days, like an itch in her brain. She had felt that there was something about this ad, something that made it relevant for her, some reason why she should think about it. It was when she had met with Ginny and Harry that it had hit her. Ginny had seen the ad as well and she was saying how Malfoy’s son was probably utterly spoiled, what with the wealth, and that home, not to mention his father. They had then talked about the manor and the fact that it was probably really lonely in there, such a big mansion and so few inhabitants.

“Lonely, but not exactly boring, I bet,” Ginny had grinned. “Man, I would kill for some of the things that place has to offer! I heard they have their own pool, and a private Quidditch pitch! That would be so cool!” Her eyes had been dreamy, imagining herself training in her own private Quidditch pitch.

“Well, I don’t know about that, Gin, but I would certainly like to see their library one day,” Hermione had smiled. And then it hit her. The library! The Malfoys were said to have a library even bigger than the one at Hogwarts! It was such a vast source of knowledge, maybe she would be able to find something there that would help her with her parents!

The thought wouldn’t leave her mind. Back home, she had dug the newspaper with the ad out of her trash and read it again. The post was indeed at Malfoy manor! And so it had begun. She had pondered the possibility and the consequences for days, but in the end, the temptation to access that many books had won out. Of course, the hefty salary the ad had mentioned had also helped the case, as Hermione felt she could maybe solve both her problems at once. And she had always liked passing along her knowledge to others, hadn’t she? McGonagall herself had offered her the position of the Arithmancy teacher at Hogwarts more than once. And if she ever wanted her parents back, she needed more information. Hermione’s mind was made up.

The rest had gone over surprisingly smoothly. Hermione had sent an owl to Narcissa and then met her in person. Narcissa had portkeyed in for their meeting, she spent most of her time in France nowadays. Hermione had been worried at first that Narcissa would reject her based on her bloody prejudice (pun intended), but the Lady Malfoy had been thoroughly impressed by Hermione’s academic achievements. She had made a point of emphasizing that she and her family had put their old prejudice behind them, now that they saw the error of their ways. Hermione didn’t believe that they had changed quite as much as Narcissa wanted her to believe, even as the other woman made a show of wiping away a tear while she spoke, but it would be enough. After all, she was going to work for them, not befriend them.

It had also fallen to Narcissa to tell her son about her decision to hire Hermione, so Hermione had no idea if he had had objections at first. All she knew was that he had been nothing but professional in his letters negotiating her employment. She had been clear on her intentions right away, although she hadn’t explained why she needed access to the library, and they hadn’t asked. All they seemed to care about was that Scorpius got a good education. And now here she was.

Her friends had flipped, of course. Ron was still insanely protective of her, even though their romance had ended before it had begun, with all the grief after the war and the way Hermione had thrown herself into her research. Harry, as always, had been much calmer about it, but he was worried, too. After all, Malfoy was her childhood bully, and he had once been a great supporter of the movement that believed she didn’t deserve to live, let alone practice magic. But she had explained to them over and over how important this was for her, how much she needed to find a way to get her parents back when there were so many people who couldn’t be brought back anymore. She didn’t have to like Malfoy, she just had to work with him. For him. And his son was only five, how bad could he be? Maybe the boy would have a chance if she was able to influence his education from a young age. She had been aware, of course, that she had tried to convince herself just as much as she was trying to convince them, but her decision was made, and she was not one to back down from a challenge.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little shorter than the other ones, but I decide when to end a chapter based on the content instead of the length. I promise to post another chapter tomorrow to make up for it and there will be longer chapters to come. Enjoy!

Lunch was a quiet affair. Hermione had thought she could now try to figure out what kind of relationship Malfoy had with his son, but he was barely paying attention to Scorpius while they ate, reading _The Daily Prophet_ instead. Scorpius himself was fidgeting in his seat, until Hermione gently reminded him that at the table, he was supposed to sit still until the meal was over. He looked at her with raised eyebrows, a look that reminded her so much of the looks his father had given her in school that she was startled for a second. Such arrogance in such a young boy! She straightened her back and calmly held his gaze until he finally gave in. This didn’t bode well. She had a feeling that it wouldn’t be easy to get this boy to accept her. Malfoy hadn’t noticed their little power struggle, still focused on his reading. After lunch, he dismissed Scorpius, who immediately ran out of the room.

Hermione watched him leave. “Where is he going?”

“How should I know?”

“He is allowed to just run around the entire house unchaperoned?”

“It’s his home, isn’t it? And whenever he needs something, he calls for an elf.”

Malfoy didn’t seem bothered at all that his little son could get hurt, or lost, or Merlin knew what, without anybody noticing. Hermione knew it was unwise, but she had to ask.

“Aren’t there many, you know – pretty dangerous things around here? What if he finds something that could harm him? How would you even notice?”

That caught his attention. He knew exactly what she was implying.

“Anything dangerous? Like what, Granger?” His expression remained neutral, but there was a warning in his voice. She had never been one to tread carefully.

“You know exactly what I mean. Burgin and Burke’s is not exactly a toy store.”

“Let me make one thing clear,” the warning sounded more like a threat now. “There are no objects of the kind you are referring to in this house anymore. I’m sure you know how thoroughly your little boyfriend’s father waltzed through this house years ago. And if there were, rest assured that I would know better than to leave them lying around for anybody – let alone my son – to find. Now I need you to understand that I hired you to look after my son, not me, and I don’t appreciate you questioning the way I am handling things in my house.”

“Ron is not my boyfriend.”

“That’s all you have to say to that?”

Shit. “So?”

He smirked at her, making her feel like her hair was bushy again and her teeth too long. “Nothing. I just think it’s interesting that of all the things I just said the most important one to you was that I had mistakenly thought you were still schmoozing around with Weaselbee.”

There was a strange emphasis on the word “mistakenly”. Had he known? Had he wanted to see her reaction? Damn, when did he regain the upper hand? Hermione was blushing now and that made her even more furious.

“Whatever, Malfoy.” She cringed even as she said it.

“Oh,” he was outright laughing now. “You know, I’m glad to see you are still able to express yourself so eloquently. ‘Whatever, Malfoy.’ Impressive, truly. Be sure to pass your knowledge along to my son, will you?”

Aware that he had won and that they both knew it, he continued.

“Speaking of which: I think we should discuss the details of our agreement to avoid any misunderstandings in the future. Let’s start with Scorpius’ schedule. The meals are served at eight in the morning, noon, and six in the evening. I expect you to attend all meals unless instructed otherwise. The mornings will be dedicated to Scorpius’ education, I expect you to teach him everything he needs to know before he goes off to Hogwarts. For now, Scorpius is free to do whatever he pleases in the afternoons, but it is your responsibility to keep an eye on him. After dinner, there is time for reading, but no more playing. He is to be in bed by eight, every night, and not a minute later. You will have the evenings, as well as every second Sunday, to yourself, as Scorpius spends those Sundays with his mother. We will schedule a meeting once a week to discuss how he is coming along in his studies.

Scorpius knows in which parts of the house he is allowed. The most important rooms he is not to enter are the dungeons and my potions lab, which is right across from the library. He is also only allowed in the library under supervision. He is not to leave the grounds. You are also not to take him anywhere outside the property without alerting me in due time.

I will show you the parts of the house you are not to enter when I show you around. Any expenses you have, I want you to hand in in our weekly meetings. Anything over a hundred galleons needs to be approved by me in advance, anything under doesn’t require permission. For this purpose, you will be able to access a Gringotts vault up to a certain amount each month. Make sure to keep documentation for those purposes.

As I have already established, you are to be an authority figure to Scorpius, not a friend. He is the Malfoy heir and he is to be raised as such, make sure to keep that in mind. There is to be absolutely no physical punishment, other than that, do as you deem appropriate.

Questions?”

Only about a thousand, but she had no idea where to start for now, so she just shook her head. He nodded and proceeded to give her the tour he had promised.

They started with the library, and Hermione could have cried at the sight. It was heaven. There were books upon books as far as the eye could see. Walking along the rows, she skimmed over some of the titles and was exhilarated to find that she didn’t know them all. She took in the inviting armchairs that were set about and the window sill that was facing the gardens and so big that one could easily sit there to read as well. Yes, this place was wonderful, possibly even more so than the library at Hogwarts, as this was private and not full of students who disrespected the ancient tomes. In any case, it was definitely worth the trouble she expected her new job to bring. Malfoy showed her the book where she could note which books she was taking and she had a hard time grasping that she was actually allowed to help herself to anything in here.

After they had seen the library, he showed her all the places that were off limits: his potions lab, anything beneath ground level, and the entire West wing. By the time they had finished the tour, Hermione was dizzy with trying to file away all the information she had just been given. It would take a while to get used to living here, but judging by what she had seen in the library, it would well be worth her trouble.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! Thank you to anyone reading this story and especially those who commented and left kudos. Glad to have you along for the ride and I promise it's about to get a little more intersting!

Over the next two weeks, Hermione tried her best to settle in at Malfoy manor. Some aspects of her new life came easier to her than others. She loved her rooms, for example. One of her first free evenings had been dedicated to making herself at home there, she had filled the bookshelves with the books she had brought from her flat, set up her computer on the desk, and then taken up the task of changing the color scheme. Not that she didn’t appreciate the Gryffindor pride that came with all the red, but she preferred lighter colors, especially when the rest of the manor was decorated with tons of dark wood and greens and greys, the torches lighting some of the less frequently used hallways not exactly helping to make the place more cheerful.

Even better than her rooms, though, was the library. She had needed the first two evenings to just wander around and try to grasp the place, the way it was organized, and where she would most likely find what she needed. Being surrounded by those ancient tomes still filled her with wonder even now that she had roamed so many libraries all over the world. It was at once a good and a bad thing to find the library exceeding all her expectations. Good, because she needed access to the knowledge and because it helped her find herself after the days at the manor. Bad, because it kept her from just up and leaving the place.

Because other than these two positive aspects of her life here, Hermione dreaded it. She still had to call for a house elf every time she wanted to find any place other than the dining room, the library, or her own rooms, which she hated because, a) she didn’t like depending on others, and b) she still didn’t like being waited on by house elves. Of course, she was the only one around who felt this way. Both Malfoy and his son called on them for every whim. She had found Scorpius to be even more spoiled than she had anticipated.

He was smart, that was for sure, and whenever she got him to actually focus on what she was trying to teach him, she was pleasantly surprised by his intellect. Only to get him to do what she told him was a challenge. He clearly disliked her, which was probably due to the fact that she was trying to instill some discipline in him when he had previously been allowed to do whatever he pleased. Hermione was appalled to see how much time Scorpius had spent on his own. Malfoy worked a lot, so he was barely at home, and when he was, he was not exactly eager to spend time with his son. It hurt her to see the little boy looking for his father’s attention and being rejected or sent away so unceremoniously. Since the two Malfoys were the only people who had previously lived in the manor, other than the house elves, and considering that Scorpius was not allowed to leave the premises, he spent all his time by himself. So it really was no wonder to Hermione that he disliked having her around, watching his every step, scolding him for breaking things or commanding the house elves around for things he was perfectly capable of doing himself.

Scorpius’ expectation to be waited on had been one of the most shocking things for her to discover in her first few days. They had been sitting in the study next to the library, where they spent their lessons, when he had dropped his pencil (Hermione had brought some with her, as she thought quills and parchment were a little over the top for a preschool boy, wizards and their stubborn way to cling to their old fashioned utensils be damned) which rolled off the desk and onto the floor. She had waited for him to go pick it up, but it seemed he waited for her to do the same.

“Well, pick it up!” he had finally commanded, impatient.

His arrogance had thrown her off for a bit, but she had caught herself and asked him to do it himself, as he had been the one to drop it.

“You work for me, you have to do what I say, so pick it up!” He had been genuinely frustrated with her.

Her tone had become stern at that. “No, Scorpius, I don’t work for you, I work for your father, who hired me to look after you, not serve you. That means, you do what I say. And now I am saying: get off your chair and get the pencil!”

He had resorted to throwing a tantrum, which hadn’t impressed her in the slightest. But when he called for Tinky to pick up that blasted pencil, she had had enough.

“Alright, that’s it! You are no longer allowed to call for the house elves for anything. Tinky, please instruct the other elves not to answer to young Scorpius here anymore either, until instructed otherwise. You may go, thank you.”

Scorpius had howled at that, thrown himself onto the floor and screamed. When that didn’t work, he had threatened to tell his father, which had her fighting not to laugh, because she could hear Draco Malfoy himself saying ‘My father will hear about this’ in her head. She just smiled at the boy who was all red in the face from screaming and told him: “Go ahead, tell him. I’ll wait.”

He didn’t, of course. It usually didn’t sit well with her that he didn’t ever go to his father for anything, but in this case, it worked in her favor. After this discussion, Hermione had made sure the house elves stopped cleaning up after the young boy. He now had to tidy his own room and his toys after he played, and it didn’t help him like her more.

Malfoy found out, of course, and their confrontation at the weekly meeting had ended in a screaming match. She had called him a bigot and a spoiled brat, and accused him of turning his son into the same thing. He had tried to hold his position as her employer over her head, and she had laughed in his face, because it was exactly what his son had done earlier. They had yelled at each other for a good couple of minutes, and she was sure that neither even listened to the other. It riled her up that he tried to make her feel inferior, because he had done such a good job of making her feel like that in school. Finally, he spat “I could kick you out right now if I wanted!” to which she replied “I could quit right this minute!” Then they stood there, both of them furious, glaring at each other, until she had turned around and left, slamming the door after her. Of course she had stayed. Malfoy might not know how important the position was to her, but she wasn’t going to give up the chance to work on her research just because she had to share the house with two petulant children. Neither of them mentioned the conversation again.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everybody! I'll be out later today, so this chapter comes a litle earlier than the last few. Hope you like it!

Today was Saturday and Hermione was exhausted. She had worked the last twelve days straight, getting up at six thirty every day and going to bed around midnight after reading in the library. They were sitting in the study working on Scorpius’ lessons and she was glad that he had been quite well behaved today. He had just finished his writing exercise (they were learning the letter ‘M’ today) in record time and was now allowed to color for a while. He loved coloring and she was glad to have brought the pencils and coloring books from her favorite stationary store in Muggle London. The picture Scorpius was working on right now showed a city scene. Scorpius pointed at one of the cars. “What is that, Miss Granger?”

“That’s a car.”

“What is a car?”

“It’s a machine that Muggles use. You can sit inside and drive it around. They can fit many people and you can go very fast, so it is easy to go places.”

“Why don’t they just use the Foo?”

She smiled at his mispronunciation. “They don’t use the _Floo_ because they don’t have access to it. You know that Muggles can’t use magic, right?”

“Yes, but I can’t, either, and I can still use the Floo.”

“That’s right, but Muggles don’t know about that there are wizards, so they don’t know that the Floo network even exists. They have learned to find their own way of living, without magic.”

“Ugh, that’s stupid!”

“It’s not stupid at all,” she exclaimed. “The Muggles are very creative, they have quite a lot of devices that wizards couldn’t imagine. Have you ever heard of the telly?” She asked, knowing this would be an invention that would impress the young boy.

His eyes lit up as she told him what it was. “That sounds cool, I want one!”

She chuckled. “I don’t know how your father would feel about that, but how about we go out sometime and I’ll show you a Muggle town?”

“Yes!” He was beaming. “Can we go now?”

“No, not right now. I need to speak to your father first. Besides, it’s almost time for lunch. Please put away your things, you did very well on your lessons today.” He pouted.

“I want to finish this first!”

“That’s not a very polite way to ask for something, Scorpius.”

“May I please finish this picture before we go to lunch?”

“No. But because you asked nicely, you may come back after lunch and keep coloring.”

He wasn’t all happy with the compromise, but acknowledged that there was no use in fighting with her, so he finally started putting away his utensils and stood up to follow her out of the room.

“Are you excited to see your mother tomorrow?” She asked while they made their way to the bathroom to wash their hands before eating.

He didn’t answer.

“Scorpius?”

A shrug. It looked funny to see the gesture on a preschooler. He had put on a serious expression and she chuckled. With his stiff shirt and miniature slacks, he looked like a tiny version of his father, just out of a business meeting. She really had to address the topic of clothing in her next meeting with Malfoy. A five year old was supposed to wear play clothes, denims and tees, especially when they were at home. She wasn’t looking forward to that conversation, but if he wanted a governess who followed his every order, she sure as hell was the wrong person for the position, he must know that.

She dropped the topic of Scorpius’ mother for now, instead taking care that they wouldn’t be late for their meal. Malfoy rarely came home for lunch, so she had instructed the elves to cook food that was more fitting to the taste palate of a young child than what his father usually ate, and her lunches with Scorpius were much more fun than the shared meals with Malfoy.

Hermione was pleased when she heard Scorpius thank the elf who served him his food. Maybe they were making progress with not taking everything for granted.

It was a nice day, so Scorpius wanted to play outside instead of returning to the study to color. He spent an hour flying around on his toy broom in the back gardens while Hermione watched him closely. After that they went around to the park in front of the house to race each other. Running was much easier on the walkway that lead to the gates, and the gate itself made the perfect finish line. The portal stood open as they neared it all the time and when Hermione raced through it onto the path outside the grounds, she saw two people outside. It was a woman a little older than Hermione and what she suspected to be her son, who looked about Scorpius’ age. The woman was on foot, and the little boy was riding a training bike. Hermione skidded to a halt in front of them, startling them both.

“Oh, hello!” She exclaimed, surprised to see anyone this far in the countryside.

“Hi,” the woman greeted just as Scorpius reached them.

He stopped a step or so behind Hermione and eyed the other boy warily.

“Hello,” the boy greeted him. “I’m Stephan. Who are you?”

Scorpius didn’t answer. Hermione turned around to look at him and he stared at her, hesitant.

“Father said I can’t speak to strangers.”

“Yes, your father is right, but it’s okay to say hello, especially now that I’m right here with you.”

He seemed to consider that for a moment, then he nodded and returned his attention to Stephan. “I’m Scorpius. What is that?” He pointed to the boy’s bike. Stephan explained and offered Scorpius to try it out. After another glance at Hermione who nodded encouragingly, Scorpius accepted and soon the boys were taking turns riding along the path.

“Hermione Granger,” Hermione said, offering a hand to the other woman.

“Hi, I’m Sophie Turner,” the other replied. “I think I’ve never seen you around the town before. Are you new around here?”

“Yes, I only recently moved in.” Hermione pointed back at the manor.

“In there?” Sophie’s eyes went wide as saucers. “Wow. We never see anybody from the manor. Most people in the town thought it had been long deserted – Stephan, let him have a turn,” she called to her son, who got off his bike only a little reluctantly to let Scorpius have another go.

Hermione smiled as she watched them. Scorpius seemed a little reserved still, but excited nonetheless, and she wondered how often he got to see people his age. Now that she thought about it, she wondered if he ever got to hang out with other children. She made a mental note to ask Malfoy about it before returning to the conversation with Sophie.

“Scorpius and his father mostly keep to themselves. Mister Malfoy is quite busy.”

“Are you his-“

“-no!” Hermione interrupted before Sophie could even finish her question, then realized she could just be asking if Hermione was his governess and quickly apologized. “Sorry. No, he hired me to homeschool little Scorpius here. We went to boarding school together, that’s it.”

“Oh. Well, it’s nice meeting you. There are not many children around this town, it’s so small. I’m always happy to meet other children Stephan’s age. Who would’ve thought that we’d meet somebody on our walk all the way out here.”

They had a pleasant conversation while they both watched the boys who had taken to chasing each other. Scorpius had really gotten the hang of the training bike. His sense of balance from flying on his toy broom must help, Hermione thought. Just as Scorpius raced by the two women once again, they heard somebody call his name.

Hermione turned to see Malfoy running toward them at full speed from the front door of the manor. She had never seen him running before, she thought. It looked a little odd with his fancy attire, but it also accentuated how fit he was.

“Wow,” she heard a breathy sigh from the woman next to her and glanced at Sophie to see her making goggly eyes at her old nemesis. She chanced another look herself and had to admit that Sophie’s admiration was not unjustified. If only his expression was a little nicer. He looked furious. What could have riled him up again this time?

“Scorpius!” He called again, now almost at the gates they were standing outside of.

Scorpius had heard him this time and stopped his bike. “Father?”

“Scorpius, come here, right this instant!”

His son did as he was told, dropping the bike, looking intimidated. Malfoy had reached the women at this point, he reached out and grabbed his son, scooping him up in his arms and glaring at Sophie. “Who are you?”

She opened her mouth to answer, but he cut her off. “I don’t care. Leave. Now!” Hermione had never heard him this furious before, not in all her years of knowing him. She was about to reprimand him for talking to Sophie this way, when his eyes fell on her.

“You! Inside. Now.”

She was so startled by his fury that she only turned to offer an apology to the more than shocked looking Sophie, who had protectively stepped in front of her own son, as if shielding him from Malfoy. “I’m sorry, like I said, they are not used to company. He gets riled up easily, you must excuse-” She stopped when Malfoy grabbed her arm and yanked her back onto the grounds of the manor. The gates closed behind them, putting the wards back in place, and Sophie and her son were immediately out of sight.

Malfoy was still holding her right arm in a vice-like grip, his other hand clutching Scorpius to his chest who was confused and frightened. “Tinky!”

She appeared with a pop. “Yes, master?”

He set Scorpius down. “Take him inside. Check him, make sure he is okay.”

“Right away,” the elf squeaked, eyes round and worried, before she and the boy disappeared again.

Hermione immediately pounced on Malfoy. “What the hell? What do you think you’re do-”

He interrupted her. “Did I not tell you that Scorpius was not to leave the grounds?”

“Yes, but-”

“Who were those people?”

“Just some Muggles from town, they-”

“How can you be sure?”

“What?” She was honestly confused by his anger. She had thought he had let go of his prejudice after the war. The Malfoy family had been so eager to admit the error of their ways, and he had hired her, after all!

“How do you know they were only Muggles? How can you be sure they weren’t trying to get into the manor?” He had been pacing, but now he turned to her, face contorted with anger.

“Malfoy, come on, it was a chance meeting, they are harmless, what are you so worried about?”

“What am I worried about? Do you have any idea who I am? How many people are out to get me? Could you for one second stop to consider in how much danger you are putting my son when you take him out of the house? I told you he was not allowed outside!”

“What danger, it was just a boy his age, for Merlin’s sake! I would never let anything happen to him!”

“You did! You let strangers near my son and it will not. Happen. Again. Can you get that into that big head of yours?”

She just stared at him, speechless for once. What was he so bloody riled up about? She honestly didn’t understand. She had been there the entire time, hadn’t she? And neither Sophie nor her son had posed any threat to Scorpius. Just the opposite, they had had fun!

“I’m going to check on my son now. You will have dinner in your quarters tonight, I don’t want to see you. Now get out of my sight.”

Hermione’s mouth opened, as if to protest, but she thought better of it and made her way back to the house where she spent the rest of the day snuggling with Crookshanks and trying to figure out what in the heavens she had done to warrant such an outburst.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my dears! Sorry I didn't get to post yesterday, I had a somewhat busy weekend, but here goes the next chapter. Hope you like it!

The next morning, Hermione was in Scorpius’ room at seven to help him get ready and pack his bags, as Malfoy was to take him to his mother right after breakfast. The boy was unusually quiet while she brushed his hair and she didn’t like it. She had often been annoyed with him throughout the last two weeks, but he wasn’t a bad kid. It was not his fault that he had been spoiled, after all, and she didn’t like seeing him this way.

“Are you okay, Scorpius?” She finally asked.

He turned around to look at her, his face set in that expression much too serious for a child his age that he often wore.

“Does father hate me?”

“Oh, sweetheart, no, of course he doesn’t,” she exclaimed, and, without thinking, took him in her arms. He clung to her tightly with his little hands and she could feel that he was shaking. Tossing all the ‘You are his governess, not his friend’ to the side, she walked back into his bedroom with him, where she sat on his bed, keeping him in her lap.

“What makes you say such a thing?” She asked, stroking the boy’s hair.

His voice was shaking. “He was so mad yesterday, and he yelled at me and at you, and he said I can’t ever talk to other people and now he is sending me to my mother today, and I…” He started crying.

She hugged him and rocked him a little to help him calm down.

“No, Scorpius, he doesn’t hate you. He loves you very much. He was just worried about you yesterday, when he saw you talking to somebody he didn’t know. And the reason why you are going to see your mother today is that she wants to spend some time with you, not that your father doesn’t want you here.”

He sniffed and she was filled with anger at Malfoy. She had thought about his outburst quite a bit since it had happened, and she had come to the conclusion that it was probably at least partly warranted, but she still thought that he had overreacted. She would finally have to talk to him, get him to see some reason. His relationship with his son was anything but healthy and it was time somebody told him that. But for now, she had to focus on the desperate child in her arms.

“Is Stephan bad?” He was asking.

“No, he is not bad. But your dad has met a lot of mean people in his life and he has a hard time trusting anybody. Especially when it comes to the person who is most important to him in the whole big world: you.”

He looked up at her then, eyes big with tears. “Really?”

“Really. Tell you what, why don’t we get you ready so we can go downstairs for breakfast and you can see for yourself that your dad isn’t mad at you, okay?”

She gently wiped the tears off his face and rubbed his back once more.

“Okay.”

Hermione watched him wipe his face with his sleeve, but she didn’t have the heart to reprimand him for it today.

When Malfoy noticed his son’s tear stained face as they walked into the dining room, he threw her a questioning gaze. She walked by his chair and said so quietly that Scorpius couldn’t hear them: “So help me Godric, Malfoy, you will be more bloody charming and attentive than you have ever been with your son today, or I’ll show you the exact Bat Bogey hex that made all six of her elder brothers afraid of Ginny Weasley.” His jaw dropped, but she ignored him and took her usual place at the table.

He didn’t speak a word to her for the entire meal, but he had an actual conversation with his son, instead of going though files from work or reading the newspaper, and that was triumph enough for her.

­­­­__________

Hermione spent the day with Ginny. It felt good to get away from Malfoy manor for once. As big as the grounds were, knowing she wasn’t supposed to leave them made her feel trapped anyway. It also felt good to have some time to herself, being able to choose what she would like to do with her time.

It was wonderful to see her friends. Harry was out with Ron, but Ginny and the kids were at home. The Quidditch season hadn’t yet started again, but Ginny was deep in training with the Holyhead Harpies, so Hermione knew how much she enjoyed having some time to spend with her kids. The women took them to the playground near Grimmauld place and talked while they played.

Hermione didn’t want to fill her in on everything that had happened yesterday at first, but Ginny was a really good listener and it felt good to have somebody to rant to, so she ended up telling her the whole story. Ginny listened to the entire report before she said something and Hermione was surprised to hear that it was not the harsh judgement of Malfoy’s behavior she had expected.

“Look,” her friend started. “I agree that he overreacted, but can’t you understand what must’ve gone through his head at that moment? From what I just heard, one of the reasons he keeps to himself is that he feels the entire wizarding world is out to get him, and honestly, I can see his point. There are quite a lot of people who think the Malfoys got away too easy after the war and it will take a long time for those wounds to heal. Now, you know that I completely trust you around my children, but Malfoy and you were not exactly chummy in school, were you? So I imagine it couldn’t have been a very good feeling for him to come home and not find his son anywhere only to find you two in the company of some complete strangers.” She held up a hand as Hermione tried to interrupt. “I’m not trying to justify his behavior, especially his overall relationship with his son, all I’m saying is I think I understand where this is coming from. Just try to see it from his perspective.”

They were quiet for a moment while Hermione pondered her words. “Merlin, when did you become so wise,” she finally joked. Ginny laughed. “The perks of motherhood!”

Her lighthearted joke stung some place inside Hermione. Yes, motherhood. Ginny had three children already, having gotten married right after school. Hermione, on the other hand, had broken things off with Ron before they even started and had been so focused on her parents that she hadn’t dated much since then, either. Not at all, actually. She had always pushed all of that off to some indefinite point in time, but Ginny’s comment made her wonder if maybe that had been a bad idea. When would that time come? Spending so much time with Scorpius sometimes reminded her that he could have just as well been her child. Agewise, of course. Ginny’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

“So, James had his first burst of accidental magic last week!”

Hermione listened to her friend proudly retell the tale of how her firstborn had turned Harry’s hair green because he didn’t want to eat his brussels sprouts and how it had been quite the struggle to get the normal color back in time for Harry’s meeting at the Ministry the next morning.

When it was time to leave, Hermione apparated to an apparition point in Durrington, the small town near the Malfoy estate, instead of directly to the front gates. She felt like she could use the walk, especially if she was to be locked in again for the next two weeks. Durrington was a small, ordinary English town, not charming enough to attract tourists, but pretty nonetheless. Hermione was just walking by the school when she saw a familiar face.

“Sophie! Hey, Sophie,” she called.

The woman turned around. “Oh, hello Hermione,” she replied, her tone guarded.

Hermione hurried to catch up with her. “Listen, I wanted to apologize again for yesterday. Mister Malfoy didn’t mean to insult you, or scare your son, he is just not used to seeing people at the estate.”

Sophie was unimpressed. “Well, I can’t imagine why he isn’t used to it,” she deadpanned.

“Yeah, I know. But he is not a bad person, really, just very protective of his son. He met a lot of very dark and dangerous people through the years, which has given him some trust issues and he wants to shield his son from the world. I hope you are not too offended, Scorpius and I really enjoyed meeting the two of you.”

While she spoke, Sophie’s expression had softened. “How could I hold his protectiveness of his son against him? He startled us, that’s all. We never see anybody in that manor and then when we do, he goes yelling at me, and the way he pulled the two of you away… Well, I guess people of his wealth and looks need to be cautious who they trust. I mean, he sure is handsome, but it wouldn’t hurt to work on his-”

“-people skills?” Hermione supplied. She briefly wondered what Sophie would think if she knew what people Hermione was really referencing. Wealth and good looks, right. Something about Sophie mentioning this didn’t sit right with her, but she couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was. Envy for the innocence of it, perhaps.

Her wording prompted the other woman to laugh. “If you want to put it that way. So what brings you to town?”

Just like that the awkwardness was gone and they conversed easily. Hermione was glad to have cleared the air with Sophie. She seemed nice enough and it hadn’t sat well with Hermione to see her offended. After the women parted ways, she resumed her way to the manor, steps already a little lighter than before.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the longest chapters yet, and some more action than before. I'm excited to hear what you think!

Hermione had decided that she wanted to talk to Malfoy when she got back. It couldn’t go on like this. Walking along the beautiful path that led to the manor gave her enough time to sort out her thoughts. When she started working for him, she had thought it would be easy for her to keep her distance, focus mainly on her research. As it turned out, that had been easier said than done. She realized that she was beginning to grow fond of Scorpius, and she felt that the child was not being treated well. Hermione had always hated seeing people (or beings, for that matter) mistreated who were not able to defend themselves, and she had always been terrible at keeping her distance. In this instance, too, she felt she couldn’t do her job half-heartedly, she would try to do anything in her power to get Scorpius what he deserved, what any child deserved: a healthy and sheltered upbringing.

Ginny’s words had floored her a little, her anger with Malfoy dissipating, but she couldn’t handle working for him like this, couldn’t watch as he turned his son into a version of the boy he himself had been. No, a discussion really was long overdue.

Determined to speak with him, Hermione called for Tinky as soon as she had passed the front gate.

“Master is playing Quidditch, Miss,” the house elf informed her at her inquiry.

Hermione thanked her and walked straight to the back gardens where the Quidditch field was. It took quite some time to get there with the size of the estate and she could see him soaring through the air a mile away. She knew next to nothing about the game, but his maneuvers looked impressive; daring, and (to her) nauseating. How could anybody enjoy sitting on a wooden stick a hundred feet above the ground? Yet Malfoy seemed at home on his broom, zooming through the clouds, shooting straight to the ground only to pull up his broom at the last second and fly up to the sky again. When she got closer, he noticed her and landed the broom a few feet away from her.

“That was impressive,” she said, trying to get off to a good start.

He just raised an eyebrow. “Suddenly a Quidditch expert, are we? Was there anything I could help you with?”

“Yes, actually. I think we need to talk.”

“Oh no, I’m not getting detention, am I?”

“Would you stop it? This concerns Scorpius, I really have no use for your childishness.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine, I promise to be on my very best behavior.” Motioning to the bottom row of the bleachers, he poured himself a glass of water from the carafe waiting on a small table, and sat down. Hermione took a seat beside him, noticing again how tall he was now that he was right next to her. He smelled of fresh air, and something clean like lemons, or bergamot, although there was a faint odor of sweat, too, after his training. She found that she didn’t mind it. Not at all actually.

“So what do you want to talk about?”

“R-right now?” She had thought they would schedule something.

“Come on, Granger, you need your notes first or something? You wanted to talk, so talk.”

Okay. She took a deep breath and tried to sort her thoughts. Shit, the notes thing would have been a good idea. Clearing her throat for good measure, she began.

“First of all, I would like to apologize for yesterday. I didn’t mean to scare you by letting Scorpius play with Stephan.”

He was clearly surprised to hear her say that, watching her as if he expected there to be a catch, but his expression was stern. “I was clear on the rules when you arrived, was I not?”

“Yes, you were, and I guess you were probably worried. However, I also think that your reaction was over the top. You should know that I take my job very seriously and that includes ensuring Scorpius’ safety. I would never put him in harm’s way and I am offended that you would think so. You also insulted a very nice lady and her son, who could have been a playmate to Scorpius had you not convinced his mother that you were a crazy lunatic.”

He bristled, about to jump in, but she cut him off with a question before she lost the courage to ask.

“It’s not because they are Muggles, right?”

“Excuse me?” His tone was dangerous, and when she later realized that this would have been her chance to take it back, the damage was already done.

“Well,” she was fidgeting in her seat a little. “I just thought, you only just came around on the whole Muggleborn issue, so I-”

He jumped up from the bench, startling her with his sudden movement and she flinched. He noticed, and his already enraged expression darkened even more.

“Only just came around on it, Granger?” He hissed.

“Well yeah, and so I thought-“

Malfoy raked a hand through his hair, the other holding the glass in his hand so tightly that she was scared he’d break it. “So you thought a Death Eater couldn’t be trusted around non magical people? Boy, you must have been glad to see me back in the manor, instead of out there killing them both.”

“No, Malfoy, I-” She had gotten up, too, now, not able to sit still when he was this agitated.

He interrupted her again. “Don’t worry, you’re not the only one who thinks that way. Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater.” His eyes were blazing, and she could feel the rage radiating off him in waves, magic buzzing in the air. But there was something else there, too, something like hurt, or resignation at the way the rest of the wizarding world saw him. This was not going the way she had planned.

“No, for Merlin’s sake, listen to me!” She tried to explain. “I believe you when you say you don’t believe in this whole pureblood nonsense anymore. I straightened that out with your mother before I came here. But obviously there is a difference between not wanting to kill every Muggle who crosses your path, and being okay with your son playing with one. So I wondered if that was the problem.”

“The problem is, Granger, that there are thousands of people out there who hate my guts and, by extension, they also hate my son!” He was yelling at her now, stepping closer to her in the process. Godric, he was tall! She took a step back, taken aback by his anger, but he followed her. “I will not risk him getting hurt because some hateful folk passed themselves off as innocent Muggles to get to him and you were too naïve to notice!”

Now Hermione was the one to rise to her full height and glare at him. “Oh, don’t be so paranoid, Malfoy! Still thinking the world revolves around you, huh? I, for once, didn’t even know you had a son before I saw that ad in the _Daily Prophet_. Nobody is out to get you.”

That finally pushed him over the edge. He smashed the glass on the ground, grabbed her by the shoulders, pushing her back against the side of the bleachers. Her head painfully connected with the wood, but he either didn’t notice, or didn’t care. He was right in her face now, grey eyes burning with rage.

“You have no idea what my life is like, no idea what my family has gone through! How dare you come here and tell me that nobody was out to get me, when-” Hurt flashed across his face and he shut his eyes for a moment before he continued, his hands gripping her arms hard enough to bruise. She winced at the feeling and the sound seemed to snap him out of his fury. Looking horrified, he let go of her, but stayed where he was.

“Sorry,” he rasped while she rubbed her arms. His expression was pained and he wasn’t looking at her. “You know nothing about us, Granger, so you can take your self-righteous attitude and go right now, or you will respect that I have reasons to keep my son inside the manor.”

Hermione felt a little ashamed at his accusation. He was right, she had no idea what the Malfoys had had to endure after the war, and frankly, she had never cared. She still found it hard to believe that the threat was quite as big as Malfoy claimed, since the Death Eaters were all gone, but she realized that she wouldn’t win this argument, so she focused on the main topic at hand instead.

“But what is your solution, then? Keep him locked up in here his entire life? That’s insane! Does he even have a single friend? And what are you going to do when he is going to Hogwarts? You can’t watch his every step in there!”

She looked up into his face and only now noticed how close they were. She could see the darker patterns in his silver irises from this perspective and the tense lines around his eyes and mouth. His voice was calmer now, but the tendons in his neck were so taut they looked like they would snap any given moment. For the fraction of a second she wondered what would happen if she reached up and smoothed out the creases on his forehead, but horrified at the notion, she hid her hands behind her back instead. She pushed off the wood, looking to put some distance between them again.

“He doesn’t need friends.” Malfoy said, his eyes still not meeting hers.

“Every child needs friends!”

“He has me.”

“You? You rarely ever spend time with him! When do you even see him aside from breakfast and dinner?”

“Well, excuse me for being busy.” He was getting riled up again, but so was she.

“Malfoy, this is not about whether you are busy or not, this is about Scorpius. You don’t let him get close to me, because I am to be only ‘Miss Granger’ to him, you don’t let him have friends, and you don’t spend any time with him yourself! What do you expect that does to him?”

When he didn’t answer, she added, more quietly: “Did you know that he asked me if you hated him this morning?”

His head snapped back to her. “He didn’t.”

“He did.”

“Why on earth-”

“He thought you were mad at him yesterd-”

“I was concerned!”

“I know that, but he doesn’t. And this is not the only thing. You are never around. You don’t spend time with him, except at breakfast and dinner. You don’t pay attention to him. Do you not notice how he tries to tell you things but you just blow him off, telling him to sit up straight or not speak with his mouth full?”

“You tell him those same things!”

“Yes, but I also listen when he tells me that he managed to fly a lap around the entire terrace on his broom today or that he now knows how to write the word ‘moon’.”

He ran a hand through his hair and huffed in frustration.

“What do you want from me, Granger?”

He was frustrated? Well she was at least as exasperated with him. “I want you to be his father!”

Malfoy raked a hand through his hair again, then clenched his fists at his sides in an obvious attempt to refrain from touching her again, or breaking something else.

“I _am_ his father! And you are his governess, my employee! You do what I tell you, you don’t go around questioning the way that _I_ treat _my_ son! It is none of your business!”

She made to stand right in front of him, hand gripping her wand, daring him to lose control again.

“You made it my business when you hired me,” she hissed. “You expect somebody complacent and obedient? Fine, but that’s not me. I will no longer just take orders from you. Your son has a chance to become a decent person, but to do so some things around here will have to change and if that’s impossible for you, I’ll go. But I want you to consider what you are doing to your son. You are his father? Then bloody behave like it!”

“I am!”

She almost laughed at that, it was so ridiculous. “It’s not enough!”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Be there for him, care for him, show him you love him!” Merlin, did she have to draw it out for him?

“But I don’t know _how_!” He was panting, face paling as soon as he realized what he had just revealed.

She didn’t know what to say to that. They were facing each other, both breathing heavily, both incredibly frustrated. Only where before there had been nothing but fury in his eyes, she thought she now detected some insecurity, maybe vulnerability even. She looked closer, but he noticed and it was gone.

“What do you mean you don’t know how?”

“Just leave me be.”

“No. I’m not trying to hurt you, I’m trying to help.”

“Yes, Hermione Granger, the helper to all, Golden Girl, lover of the unloved.”

She hated that name, but decided not to let him goad her. She said nothing, just looked him straight in the eyes. When she didn’t add more fuel to the fire, his shoulders slumped a bit and he sat down on the bench again, avoiding her eyes and fiddling with a loose thread of his Quidditch robes instead.

“Look,” he began. “I don’t know what your family was like, but mine was never good at the whole fuzzy-feely stuff. My father only ever spoke to me when we talked about my achievements, my future, the Malfoy business, but I knew he loved me, in his own way. Fathers are not supposed to cuddle their children or comfort them. That’s a mother’s job.”

“That is utter bollocks.” Hermione sat back down next to him. “Who is to say a father can’t show his son affection? Why can’t you cuddle with your son? He is _your_ son, for Merlin’s sake!”

“But my father-”

“Honestly, Malfoy, I know he is your father, so I will not comment on my opinion about him, but concerning his relationship with you: Is that really how you want your relationship with Scorpius to be? Do you want him to feel the same way about you that you felt, or feel, about your father?” She spoke more softly now, careful not to close the door he had opened so hesitantly.

When Malfoy didn’t speak for minutes this time, she was starting to think she wouldn’t get an answer at all. She was about to speak up a couple of times, but bit her tongue and waited instead.

“I do love my father.” He finally said.

She nodded, understanding, even though she didn’t think Lucius worthy of his son’s love.

“But I also hate him.”

Hermione nodded again, waiting.

“I don’t want my son to hate me.”

“Of course you don’t.”

“What do I do now?”

She smiled. “Easy. Spend time with him. Just be there, the rest will happen on its own, I promise.”

Now it was his turn to nod.

Inwardly bracing herself, she hit him with her other demands. “I will also let him call me Hermione from now on. And I will take him outside the manor. I see your point with the wizarding world, but there is a nice little Muggle town not far from here. The Muggles don’t give a damn about the Malfoy name and I promise to watch him like a hawk, but the boy needs to socialize with kids his age.”

“No.”

“If you are uncomfortable with us going alone, by all means, you can come along, but you are not doing him any favors by looking him up in here.”

He sighed. “Okay.”

“Good.” She was surprised, having expected the entire debate to start over now, but she certainly wouldn’t complain that he had caved so easily this time. Hermione nodded once more and got up to walk back to the house, feeling suddenly drained from the conversation. His voice stopped her when she was a couple of feet away.

“Granger.”

She turned around.

“This doesn’t change anything for us. I still despise you.”

“Feeling’s mutual, Malfoy.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everybody! I wasn't sure I'd be able to update today, but luckily this chapter required little re-editing. Here it goes! It's much lighter than the previous one, but I hope you like it regardless.

Hermione was reading in the sitting room closest to the main Floo so she would be able to hear Malfoy and Scorpius when they got back. She was reading the memoires of one of the Malfoys’ distant relatives who had worked in the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungo’s in the 19th century, the same ward Gilderoy Lockhart was later admitted to when his _Obliviate_ backfired. She had yet to find something useful in the book. Apparently, Ignatius Malfoy had compensated his stupidity with equal amounts of vanity and self-righteousness, and he had been just about as fond of Muggles and Muggleborns as he was of correct spelling. She actually thought it was a pity that he hadn’t been around anymore when her former teacher took up his permanent residence in the ward at St. Mungo’s. They would surely have gotten along great.

If she was being honest with herself, it was a relief when she heard the flames roar to life in the main fireplace, announcing the return of her housemates. Malfoy was just stepping out of the fire, Scorpius in his arms, when she entered. Hermione didn’t even get the chance to greet them before Scorpius wriggled himself out of his father’s arms and ran towards her.

“I want my broom!”

“Well, good evening, Scorpius,” she replied. “This is not a very nice way to say hello. Care to try again?”

“I want my broom!”

“And I want you to say a proper hello.”

He tried to run away, but she caught him, turning him around to face her. “Well? I’m waiting.”

“Hello,” he yelled in her face and wrestled himself free.

“Scorpius!” She called, but he was already on his way to the doors that led onto the terrace. “What has gotten into him?” She turned around to ask, but Malfoy was gone. Hermione huffed. If that wasn’t typical! This promised to be a fun evening.

She found Scorpius still in the sitting room, trying to open the doors. Stepping next to him, she grabbed his hand and pulled him away.

“Scorpius, it’s late. You can’t fly anymore today. It’s time for bed.”

“But I want my broom!”

“No. You can fly tomorrow, after lunch, if you behave. But now it’s time for little wizards to go to sleep.”

The high-pitched wail that followed would have done the screeching of the golden egg Harry had received for his task in the Triwizard Tournament proud. Hermione tried to get the child to stop crying, but Scorpius was really working himself into one of the most impressive tantrums Hermione had ever seen. Resolutely, she picked the kicking and screaming boy up, ignoring the way his little fists hit her, and took him to his rooms on what she hoped to be the most direct route.

Once inside, she sat him back down and was just fast enough to lock the door before he reached it, trying to run right back into the hall. When he realized he couldn’t get out, he turned and ran to the corner of his room where all his toys were, grabbed his favorite stuffed animal (a dragon) and threw it across the room. He proceeded to repeat the process with his other toys, until one of them almost hit Hermione, who had tried to get to the little monster on the other side of the room, in the head. She had finally had enough. “ _Arresto momentum_!” She called, and the toys that were flying all around the room now hung still in the air.

Scorpius immediately stopped crying and stared at them, mouth open. She let them fall to the floor and he pouted. “Do it again!”

She refused. “Let’s get you washed,” she said, glad the screeching had stopped. Scorpius followed her obediently, but now it seemed his mood had hit the opposite extreme. He was still running around, but now everything amused him, sending him into giggling fits. When she tried to brush his teeth (her parents weren’t dentists for nothing), he bit her and then almost fell off the counter laughing. He made faces at her, bent over to look at her through his legs instead of putting on his pajama bottoms, and thought getting his head stuck in his shirt was the most hilarious thing ever.

Yet when he fell on his little butt trying to get out of his silken confinement, and Hermione couldn’t repress a chuckle, a pout formed on his face, and a second later he was crying again. There were no real tears, but his eyes were red and so was his face, his exhaustion now apparent. With a sigh, Hermione gathered him up in her arms again, and this time he stopped fighting against her quickly, wrapping his arms around her neck instead. She sat down in the rocking chair next to his bed, wandlessly dimmed the light, and started rocking softly while she stroked his back and hummed to him. He was asleep not two minutes later.

Hermione gently laid him down in his bed and watched his hands clench and unclench as he slept. She had seen this kind of behavior before. It had been James’ fourth birthday, and George seemed very intent on gifting the little guy everything his store had to offer. They had barely made it through the birthday cake when James had started throwing a fit, the combination of all the sugar and excitement just too much for him. Scorpius must have been exhausted from his day, and Hermione was willing to bet her copy of _Beedle the Bard_ that there had also been a significant amount of sugar involved.

Outside in the hallway, Hermione glanced towards the door where she knew Malfoy had his rooms. She was pretty sure he was in there right now and she had half a mind to waltz in there and give him a piece of her mind. Surely he must have heard the noise? Hell, all of Wiltshire had probably heard Scorpius’ cries. How could a parent ignore this? Shaking her head, she decided that she had already given Malfoy enough to think about the other day and thought better of it, retiring to her own rooms instead. If this night was any indication for what she had to expect on Sundays, she would have to ask Malfoy for an additional day off, just to recover from her day off.

__________

Scorpius was still a little groggy on Monday, so Hermione went easy on him with his lessons. It was raining today, so they spent the afternoon inside, too, and Scorpius colored in three pages in his coloring book. If he continued at this speed, they would have to get him a new one soon. After dinner, she read to him, and he fell asleep at seven, way earlier than he had to, obviously still tired from yesterday. Hermione felt that the day spent inside had done him some good, so she wasn’t bothered to see it raining for the rest of the week, also.

But the weather was not the only thing that had changed. Malfoy had stopped reading at the table, and listened when his son told him stories of his day. Her he ignored most of the time, whatever part of himself he had let her see on the Quidditch pitch carefully hidden again. He still didn’t encourage the child, and he was still pretty stern, but it was a start. Baby steps, she told herself, and ate her porridge with quiet satisfaction.

On Saturday, the rain finally stopped, and Hermione decided it was time to take Scorpius to town. He had really warmed up to her over the course of the last week, be it because he didn’t have to address her as ‘Miss Granger’ anymore, or because his father’s changed behavior did the trick, he was much less arrogant in his attitude towards her. He had also stopped debating her every single time she asked him to clean up after himself, now only questioning her about every second time. Hermione was glad for it. She had hoped that, as it had been with Harry and Ginny’s children at some point, he was mostly testing his limits with her, and that drawing clear lines and giving him some structure would help. So far, it seemed to work out. He was not a perfect little darling overnight, of course, but she was starting to actually like him, which he again seemed to pick up on, further helping him overcome his own dislike of her.

Hermione refrained from asking Malfoy’s permission to take his son down to Durrington, opting to merely inform him of her decision. She had caught him after lunch, and he was not pleased, but she didn’t care. “If you are so worried about me taking him there, why don’t you come along and look after him yourself?” He refused, of course, but he begrudgingly let them go.

Scorpius’ energy barely lasted for a trip to the bookstore, where she bought him a new coloring book (this one was full of pictures of airplanes), as he worked himself into a state of excitement every single time a car passed them.

“Look, Hermione, look, another one!” He yelled and pointed at a silver Minivan.

“Yes, I see it. Very nice.” People were looking at them with bemused expressions. It wasn’t common around Muggle villages to see children Scorpius’ age get so worked up about ordinary cars, and Hermione was only glad they had neither seen an ambulance, nor a police car or a construction site.

Malfoy just ‘happened’ to be by the front gates when they returned, as he said. Hermione didn’t believe him for a second, but she said nothing as Scorpius ran up to his father and babbled about cars and traffic lights the entire way into the house. He tried to hide it when he noticed her gaze, but Hermione could have sworn she saw Malfoy smile.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter! Let me know what you think!

Sunday evening found Hermione in her usual spot in the Malfoy library. She had taken to sitting at the desk by the window, which offered a beautiful view of the gardens when she looked up, and nothing but books when she turned around. As she was still not entirely comfortable in the manor, she preferred it this way: a way out ahead of her, and books at her back. Her rooms were nice, too, and they finally started to look like _her_ rooms, after the three weeks she had spent here now, but to her, nothing beat the comfort of being surrounded by books. If she could paint, this would be her first motive of choice: the rows and rows of shelves, forming a labyrinth of knowledge, the dark wood and comfortable chairs, and the beautiful desks of which each and every one would have been suitable for the Minister of Magic’s office, large and impressive as they were. The ceiling was so far up that she couldn’t make it out, but there must be some spell about the place that ensured that the light in here was always just right.

One of Hermione’s favorite things about the library was that there was a second floor, a wooden walkway that lead around the bookshelves on the outer wall, about halfway up the wall. She could only imagine that it was there for reasons of style, since all Malfoys had been wizards, which meant that not one of them would have needed help getting to the books on the higher shelves; they could just have _accio’d_ them. This once, though, she didn’t care that there was no practical use for the second landing or the ladders that could be found all around, she agreed with whichever one of Malfoy’s ancestors had thought they would fit the atmosphere of the place. It was the only room around the house where she didn’t constantly feel the need to look over her shoulder, always expecting some evil to loom behind her. Even in her own chambers, she locked the door at night, warded the place, slept with her wand under her pillow, and still woke up about once or twice a night thinking she had heard somebody inside her room.

Tonight, she wasn’t reading a new book, but sorting through her notes to once again ponder what she had found out so far. Maybe she ought to write her own book if she ever managed to restore her parents’ memories. _When_ , she quickly corrected herself. It was hard not to lose hope sometimes, especially since she had already dedicated eight years of her life to her research, but she had to keep going. She was just rereading a passage about the difference between the brain and the mind when she heard the explosion. The battery operated table lamp that sat next to her on the desk (seriously, wizards always thought they were so superior to Muggles, but then waltzed right in and brought fires, candles, and oil lamps to a room filled with wood and paper) rattled when the room shook slightly. What was going on?

Instantly snapping into battle mode, Hermione grabbed her wand and sprinted through the library and into the hall to investigate. That was when she heard the second detonation, smaller this time. Hermione was relieved and shocked at the same time when she noticed that it had come from the potions lab right across from the library. The good thing was that they were most likely not under attack, but the bad thing was that Malfoy was probably in there. And that meant that he was either dead, or badly hurt, or probably at least annoyed as hell, and Hermione had to go and check. It was what her inner Gryffindor demanded, but her common sense told her that no matter what she found inside, it would ruin a perfectly good evening. Wasn’t it a Schrodinger’s cat situation as long as she didn’t open the door? If she didn’t know what had happened to him, he was both hurt and okay, so did she even have to check?

As her ministrations were futile though (Gryffindor and all that), she crossed the hallway in two big steps and pushed open the door to the lab. She ducked just in time to dodge the swelling of a Bubotuber plant that came flying her way. When she raised her head again, she saw that the third scenario was the one to come true: Malfoy was perfectly all right, but boiling with rage. He hadn’t even seen her yet, but was throwing potion ingredients around the lab, swearing loudly.

“Fucking hell, that sodding idiot Borage can go screw a banshee!” The next thing that flew Hermione’s way was a burning copy of _Advanced Potion Making_ , the author of which Malfoy had just proposed such a creative death for. It reminded her so much of the way Scorpius had thrown his toys around and now that she saw he was okay, she found it quite amusing. Malfoy jumped as she chuckled, and this time only a quick move of her wand was able to save her from the mortar he aimed her way. He relaxed slightly when he realized who she was, only to get even angrier two seconds later.

“What are you doing in here? I thought I told you my lab was off limits!”

“Sorry,” she said without meaning it. “I heard an explosion and thought I’d check what size your coffin would have to be.”

“Worried about me, Granger?”

“Well, you are the one to give me my paycheck at the end of each month. Besides, I thought I could maybe save a book or two.” She picked up the remains of Borage’s book. “Guess it’s a little late for this one.”

Malfoy snorted, if amused or disgusted she couldn’t tell. “No harm done there. Honestly, though, I know your friends are baboons and you’re used to being the only somewhat intelligent person in the room, but did you really think I would own a potion making company without knowing how to protect myself while brewing?”

Indeed, there were no signs of any damages around the room, safe for the items Malfoy had thrown around. “You’re right,” Hermione admitted. “Tell me: On what page of your safety manual can I find the instructions on how to safely throw around Bubotuber pus?”

He just rolled his eyes, but he also looked a little sheepish as he waved his wand to clear up the mess. The fact that he was distracted gave Hermione the chance to take a closer look at him. He looked more relaxed than she had ever seen him before, even though he had just had an angry outburst. His hair was slightly messy from the humidity in the air and what she bet had been him running his fingers through it. (Why did the idea of that gesture make her uncomfortable?) The sleeves of his white button-up were rolled up. Hermione had never seen him in anything but long sleeves and she also realized why when he noticed where her attention was and yanked the sleeve on his left arm down with such force that she heard the fabric tear a little.

Trying to cover her discomfort, she stepped closer to the cauldron. “What are you brewing anyway?”

She expected a snappy answer, but he just pointed to the other ingredients on the desk. “A healing potion for the skin that will remove cursed scars.” He glared at her as if to dare her to mention why he might have an interest in something like that himself. When she didn’t, he continued. “Borage used Bubotuber pus for his healing potions, like we learned in Herbology, but the potion ingredients he proposed for this use are just for more superficial injuries and they are also highly instable. Anyway,” he tried to wave it off, having said more than he wanted already. “Nothing dangerous, so no need for you to come to my rescue again.”

He was kicking her out, but she ignored it, her interest piqued by the problem he had described. “This is an interesting approach. What other ingredients did Borage suggest?”

“Anything with healing powers; Dittany, cajuput oil, dragon liver…” He was staring at her intently while she thought.

“Stop,” she scolded lightly. “If you stare at me like that, I can’t think.”

He rolled his eyes again, but focused on cleaning up a bit of spilled Bubotuber pus, giving her some space to sort her thoughts.

After a few seconds, she slowly voiced what was going through her head. “I have always felt that many potions were unstable because they lacked the right balance. Maybe the ingredients Borage is using are too similar in their characteristics?”

Malfoy seemed to consider that for a moment. “True, but you can’t add ingredients to a healing potion that will do harm. That’s only done in exceptional cases, like the Wolfsbane potion, and – although, maybe that’s a good example. Kill the wolf, heal the human-”

“- kill the curse, heal the wound.” She supplied.

“You might actually be on to something here, Granger.” He picked up another book from the shelf and started flipping through it, mumbling to himself until he finally showed her a passage he thought could be helpful.

Soon they were discussing potion ingredients and their antagonists, Golpalott’s second law and whether the material of the cauldron would affect the potion in this case. Malfoy’s potions skills far exceeded Hermione’s and they never agreed on a point at first, but her relative naivety caused her to challenge the worn out paths Malfoy treaded after years of working in this field, which offered him a new perspective.

Hermione was surprised to find that she was really enjoying herself, especially once Malfoy had conjured two comfortable chairs for them and called for Tinky to bring them a bottle of elvish wine. She was surprised at his civility towards her, his excitement when something she said sparked an idea in him, and especially at the fact that he listened to her, taking her seriously, even though she couldn’t match his knowledge. Hermione herself enjoyed the discussion tremendously. She found that she had missed being able to spar with somebody on academic topics, and had she been willing to be perfectly honest with herself, she might have realized that none of her discussions at school, University, or with the specialists she had consulted over the years had made her feel as exhilarated.

So she was really sorry to hear her wand hum a few hours later. Malfoy stopped mid-sentence and looked at it questioningly. “What is that?”

“Your son.”

“I don’t understand.” He looked puzzled.

“I placed a wand alarm on his room so I would be alerted if he was crying or there was something wrong with him at night. You don’t know the spell?”

“Never heard of it.”

“Well, how else did you think I kept an eye on him when my rooms are at the opposite end of the manor?”

“Honestly, I never thought about it. The house elves used to take care of that.”

And here he was again: the uncaring Malfoy, the man who had been a spoiled, arrogant child. Hermione set down her glass of wine and got up. “Well, I better go check on him.”

He got up, too, vanishing the glasses and the chairs. “Yeah, you better.”

The mood was suddenly awkward, and Hermione stood in her spot for a second, desperately searching for a way to break the uncomfortable silence, but nothing came to her. So she finally muttered a lame “Well, then…” and left.

Scorpius was crying because he had woken up and now couldn’t find his stuffed dragon. Hermione pulled it out from the crack in between the wall and the bed, handed it to him and waited for him to settle down again.

When she went by the lab again on her way to her rooms, telling herself that it was the fastest way to get back to her wing, she found it dark and empty. She closed the door, tried to deny her disappointment, and went to bed.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I have another chapter! I'm not sure if I can keep up the frequent postings like I have so far, but all your comments and remarks really help my motivation. :)  
> This chapter is a little more intense than the previous ones, so if you don't like that you shouldn't read. I think I may have to adjust the rating sometime soon... Anyway, for those of you who'd still like to give it a try: Enjoy! :)

Scorpius was having a bad week. Sunday night didn’t remain the only time he woke up at night, causing Hermione to walk from her end of the manor to the other in her pajamas to help him calm down again. She hated traipsing around here at night, still getting lost all the time. If the manor was already scary in the light of day, it was nothing compared to nighttime, when the torches had gone out and she had to light her wand to see the way. On Wednesday, Crookshanks had thought it wise to stroke around her legs when she was on the way back to her rooms and he had almost payed with his life for that mistake.

It turned out that Scorpius was having nightmares that caused him to wake up at night. As far as Hermione was aware, he should have already had that phase, but of course there was nobody there to confirm for her whether it was a recurring phenomenon or if this was the first time he was having nightmares. Either way, it had only started a week ago, so she wasn’t too concerned.

Tonight, Hermione was reading in the sitting room instead of her quarters, as it was much closer to Scorpius’ room. He usually woke up again around midnight so she figured there was no sense in her going to bed only to get up again as soon as she had fallen asleep. She was having a hard time keeping her eyes open, a week of sleep deprivation taking its toll.

When her wand hummed, she woke up with a start, not having noticed that she had fallen asleep in her chair, book still in hand. With a sigh, she set it aside and scrambled to her feet. She had a splitting headache and her eyelids felt like sandpaper. Not able to remember the way in her current state of mind, she used the point-me function of her wand and followed it to Scorpius’ room.

She found him sitting up in his bed, his cries heartbreaking. When he saw her come in, he held his arms out and she picked him up, sitting down in the rocking chair in the corner. He was still sobbing and he held on to her tightly, his arms slung around her neck, face buried in her curls. It was hard not to melt when he clung to her like this, and Hermione didn’t even try. She held him, stroking his soft blond curls and rocking slightly in her chair. The strange thing was that as much as she was comforting him, holding him helped her feel better as well. When he settled down, she conjured a blanket from his bed and draped it over the both of them as sleep got the better of her.

It couldn’t have been much later when the boy stirred and mumbled, his noises turning into cries once again before Hermione was even fully awake. This time, though, she was able to get him to fall asleep again quickly. Stumbling a little, she gathered him up in her arms and put him back in his bed. Her experience had taught her that he was now likely to sleep through the rest of the night. The temptation to crawl in next to him was almost unbearable, but Hermione dreaded to imagine being found in there in the morning. Instead, she tried to ignore the fuzzy feeling in her head and scrambled out of the room, wandering back to the East wing where her bed was waiting for her. She was so tired that it took her fifteen minutes to realize that she should have been in her room by now and that the corridors around her, once again, looked completely unfamiliar. She cursed. Sometimes it felt like the manor had a mind of its own, like Hogwarts, only here the house was out to get her and made her lose her way on purpose.

The uneasiness that overcame her at being lost in the mansion in the thick of the night cleared the fog in her mind enough for her to remember the point-me spell. Unfortunately, the spell didn’t take walls into account, so it always required some trial and error to get the way right. At the moment, Hermione’s wand was pointing straight into the wall on her right. Fortunately, there was a door a few steps away. It was locked, but nothing a quick _Alohomora_ couldn’t fix.

Hermione expected to see another corridor behind the door, but was instead greeted by a room that more closely resembled the room of requirement at Hogwarts when it turned into the place where generations of students had hidden their treasures. There were picture frames and furniture, strange statues and artifacts all around her. Some sort of storage room, presumably.

The light of her wand illuminated a portrait and its inhabitant, an aristocratic, mean-looking old man hissed at her. “Get the light out of my face you useless bint!”

“Sorry,” she said automatically and pointed her wand elsewhere, only to turn around and see that it was another portrait that she had also successfully woken up now. The same procedure repeated itself: she tried to rip her wand away, lit up another portrait in the process, and soon the storage room was filled with whispers, hisses, and insults. Hermione wandered deeper and deeper inside, expecting to see a door on the other side of the room that would lead her out of here, but she just stumbled over more pictures. They all had heavy golden frames that looked antique and were probably worth a fortune. All the witches and wizards gave her the same disgusted and disapproving look, which made the hundreds of faces seem like a painting of one and the same couple. It was when one voice stopped its insults to mutter “wait, I have seen her before” that it hit her why they looked so alike. She had run straight into a discarded collection of Malfoy portraits! They were the portraits that must have once lined the halls of this place. Now trying to get out of here in earnest, Hermione spun around to look for the door she came from.

The portrait was still talking. It showed a witch that could have been (and probably was) related to Walburga Black. “That’s the Mudblood who was brought here when _he_ was still around!” the old hag suddenly screeched. Silence fell over the room, giving Hermione about one second to brace herself. Then the tumult began.

“Filthy Mudblood!”

“-sullying this house!”

“Mudblood!”

“Unworthy of the ground she-”

“Ugly Mudblood!”

“Should have long been purged from-”

“Mudblood!”

The noise was unbearable. It made Hermione’s ears ring. The voices of the single portrait seemed to merge into one, chanting the slur over and over. Hermione’s heart started racing and she felt as though the crowd of wizards made of oil around her chanted to the rhythm of its beating: “Mudblood, Mudblood, Mudblood!” The insult and the sound of her own blood were the only things she could hear. Ironic, she thought, that the only thing about herself she was able to grasp was the very reason they insulted her. She felt as though her blood really was dirty, wasn’t it flowing slower than usual? Her legs wouldn’t obey her as she spun around again, looking for the door but finding nothing.

“- waves that wand around like it belongs to her! Who did you steal it from?”

She hadn’t heard these words in so long. Where, goddamn, was the door? She was starting to panic. No way was she stuck in here where nothing but hate surrounded her! Desperate, she tried to think of something that could help her, something that would allow her to _see_ -

“ _Lumos maxima_!” She had to yell it over the deafening choir.

Light burst from her wand, catching the entire room as she focused all her attention on the spell. That was when she recognized the room. A chandelier. Marble floor. The mantelpiece and the mirror hung above it. Hermione screamed at the top of her lungs. Her wand dropped to the floor and the light went out so she couldn’t see anymore, and the paintings fell silent, but that just made it worse. Hermione heard her own breath coming in short, desperate huffs. Was that the sound of a snake slithering along the floor? She jumped, scrambling back on all fours as fast as she could, when she hit a frame with her left foot and the witch inside spat “Mudblood” again. That voice! Oh no, it couldn’t be-

“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” Bellatrix voice was equal parts crazy and playful.

“You’re dead,” Hermione whispered, on the verge of a panic attack. “This isn’t real. You died in the battle.” Her eyes stared into the dark, unseeing, and she tried to control her frantic breathing to not give away her location.

“I can smell you, you know?” Bellatrix chuckled. “I can smell your dirty blood. It’s disgusting, but I won’t mind it when I spill it all. Over. The floor.” She drew out her last words and Hermione’s breath hitched, her vision now going white. Her right hand was shaking, fluttering over the cool marble tiles all around her, looking for her wand. It was futile. The next time Bellatrix spoke, she was much closer.

“You know what I am going to do when I find you, sweet _Mudblood_?” It sounded almost like a term of endearment. “You think I’m going to kill you? No,” she laughed, that high-pitched, cackling sound that still haunted Hermione in her nightmares. “No,” she was saying. “Well, yes actually, I’ll kill you.” She was close, Hermione could hear her steps now, somewhere behind her, but she didn’t dare moving to look.

“But first, you and I are going to have some fun.” No. Cold sweat trickled down Hermione’s back and sent shivers down her spine.

“A talk.” Hermione’s breath hitched.

“Woman to woman.” She stopped breathing altogether.

“ _Then_ I will kill you.” A hand grabbed her and her eyes rolled back into her head while she screamed her lungs out.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, but intense.

Fingers in her hair. Hermione could feel the curls ripping out of her scalp. She tried to scramble away, but the hands just held on even tighter.

Bellatrix dragged her across the room and Hermione briefly wondered if she was going crazy. Her heart was beating so fast that she could feel it in her entire body, she was breathing hard, but no air reached her lungs. _Hyperventilating_ , she told herself. _You’re hyperventilating_. The logical observation helped her clear her mind for a moment, but the shock of her situation just hit her harder.

Her nightmares had come true. Bellatrix was back, and all of Hermione’s senses were attacked by the sensation of the madwoman. Her hands in Hermione’s hair, fingers scratching her scalp with those disgusting nails that always looked like there was still blood under them. Her smell, of uncleanliness and sweat, but also blood and for some reason most disgusting of all, vanilla. The sweat smell mixing with the others made Hermione gag and she leaned to the side to vomit, but she only dry heaved and nothing came out. It was dark, but she was able to see the hooded eyes, the black curls, the mad smile anyway. She would be able to see them even when she was dead and buried.

“I got you! I got you, Mudblood! I told you you couldn’t hide!” Bellatrix was ecstatic, like she had just won a game of hide and seek.

“Oh, I have dreamed of seeing you like this in front of me! Will you beg this time? Will you beg for your life?”

Hermione couldn’t answer, she still couldn’t even breathe, and her limbs were frozen. Internally, she was screaming at her body to move, to get away, or attack, or _do_ something, but she couldn’t. So she waited for the inevitable pain. She didn’t have to wait long.

“ _Crucio_!”

Excruciating pain. Her body shook and convulsed, as if trying to find a better angle to take the pain. There was none. Hermione bit her tongue and warm blood filled her mouth. It didn’t even hurt, compared to the rest of her body, but the taste alone was almost enough to drive her insane. She couldn’t spit, and when she tried to breathe, she choked on her own blood. Violent coughs shook her and only then did she realize that the pain had mostly stopped.

Gathering all her strength, she turned her head to the side and let the red liquid flow out of the corner of her mouth. It stained the marble floor, just as it had eight, almost nine, years ago. Perhaps the room remembered her DNA, because suddenly, there was a faint glowing all around and for a moment, it felt almost peaceful to Hermione. Then the portraits started screaming again, and she heard the voice of the person every single one of her Boggarts turned into.

“Still haven’t had enough? Good, I like to play with my food. _Crucio_!”

Every cell inside her was on fire. Her face was wet with tears and blood. She couldn’t see. The pain mixed with the cackling laughter and the choir of “ _Mudblood, Mudblood_ ” around her. Then it was over.

Panting, she lay there, body too weak to make a single sound. The light had grown stronger. There was a movement in the corner of her eye, and she jerked around, surprised she was able to. Standing between an old piano and a gigantic wardrobe was Draco Malfoy, wand alight. She recognized his horrified stare just as his aunt jammed her knife into Hermione’s skin, retracing the word she still bore despite all her efforts to remove it. Knowing what was happening to her arm made the pain even worse this time and suddenly, Hermione heard her own voice, even though she had no conscious control over it.

“Stop, _stop_ , please! Not again!”

The knife hacked away, relentless. Hermione was making eye contact with her scared classmate now.

“Malfoy, why are you just standing there? Help me!”

He didn’t move a muscle, face contorted in a grimace, arm hanging in the air, wand still lit.

“Malfoy! I know you can’t hate me this much! You helped us, please-” A sob interrupted her as her legs kicked of their own accord, trying to fight off the lunatic cutting her. “- please. Get her away from me, I beg you.” Another cut. She screamed. “Malfoy, please, help me! _Draco_!”

The knife cut even deeper and Hermione lost the ability to form words. She gave in to the pain. It would be over soon. Her body couldn’t take much more, and if she didn’t pass out, Bellatrix was sure to kill her sooner or later. She thought of her parents, regretting that she would die without having helped them. Harry, Ron, Ginny… The kids. Scorpius, Malfoy. What would happen to the child now? He had only just opened up to her.

With all her might, she tried to focus on opening her eyes, asking the boy with the haunted eyes across the room to take care of his children when he was old enough to have any. Only when she cracked her eyes open, he was no longer across the room. Instead, he was kneeling next to her. His lips were moving, but she couldn’t hear him. There was a screeching sound all around.

He reached to touch her and his sleeve slid up his arm. A skull. A snake. Pure evil radiating off them. Dead people, Dumbledore, Remus and Tonks, Greyback attacking Lavender. Looming figures in dark cloaks. And the Dark Mark again. She recoiled from the outstretched hand, pulling her knees to her chest in a futile attempt to protect herself.

Somebody cursed, a white piece of cloth covered the abomination. A hand reached for her. She didn’t pull back this time. The hand pressed on her back, rubbing so gently she could barely feel it. The screeching ebbed and she started to hear words coming from the blonde man beside her.

“-not real. Granger. Snap out of it. Can you hear me?”

The words barely reached her, that high-pitched sound still silencing them. Why was he here? Did he make Bellatrix go away? She didn’t feel the knife anymore, just his steadying hand on her body. His eyes looked so sad. Hermione didn’t like it, she wanted to comfort him, but she couldn’t move.

Then he took away his hand and got to his feet and she lost it. _Don’t go, don’t go, don’t leave me again. She will kill me, don’t leave me,_ her brain was chanting. Instantly, the hand was back, but now there was a second hand. They were at her back and under her knees and suddenly, she felt herself being lifted into the air. Instinctively, she wrapped her hands around a pale neck and tried to hide her body behind the broad shoulders.

Hermione held on for dear life as the cackling laughter slowly faded away. The arms that held her were shaking, or maybe that was her. The shrieking sound was still there, but as uncomfortable as that was, at least she couldn’t hear the portraits anymore. She also couldn’t smell blood anymore, instead recognizing something like bergamot and green apples. Hermione buried her face in the fabric emanating the comforting odor and noticed that the abominable sound faded with it. Some part of her brain realized that that had to mean the sounds were coming from _her_ and she managed to stop them, sobs taking their place.

Then a door slammed shut and they were surrounded by firelight again, its warmth further helping to chase away the cold that had taken over Hermione’s body. She heard a voice barking orders and popping sounds, but she didn’t remove her face from its hiding place.

Her body was rocking with the movement caused by the long strides as she was being carried Merlin knew where. The warm body holding her, the feeling of strong arms and the rumbling that came from the chest she had pressed her face against calmed her as the platinum blonde hair in her peripheral vision replaced the impression of black curls that seemed to be burned into the backs of her eyelids. She felt a hand stroking her hair, saw green flames roaring to life and then everything went dark.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everybody! Sorry it took me so long to get the next chapter up, but things have been a little crazy lately... I am still very much humbled by your continued support, thank you to everybody who reads and reviews! :) Let me know what you think about this one!

When Hermione woke up, there was a steaming hot mug of tea on the nightstand beside the bed. She sat up carefully and grabbed the mug, breathing in Ginny’s favorite remedy for sore throats as she took in her surroundings.

She was in the guest room at Grimmauld place she usually occupied when she stayed over. The curtains were drawn, but Hermione was so familiar with the surroundings that she recognized every piece of furniture anyway. Had she stayed here last night? She didn’t remember coming over. In fact, the last thing she recalled…

She dropped the cup, yelping as the hot liquid burned her skin. In an instant, the door flew open and Harry stormed inside. He must have been right outside her door to have been here so quickly. Had she not been so busy trying to steady her breathing as the memories came flowing back, she would have been shocked to see her best friend this flustered.

He was by her side in two big strides, sitting down and grabbing her shoulders.

“Breathe, Hermione, it’s okay. You’re safe here, calm down.”

She focused on his voice to help get her breathing under control until she was finally able to pull herself together. Harry repaired her cup with a quick spell as she wiped away her tears.

“What happened?” She asked, startled by her raspy voice.

Harry pushed a hand through his hair in a gesture so achingly familiar it made Hermione’s heart clench for a second.

“What do you remember?” He asked.

“I-I don’t know. Scorpius had a nightmare and I went to comfort him, but I got lost and there was this room and the portraits and-” She trailed off, her breathing erratic again as the image of black curls flashed before her eyes. Panicked, she ripped at the sleeve of her shirt to look at her arm. There it was. _Mudblood_. Still readable, and still very much a scar, no trace of a new injury.

Harry watched her with a concerned look on his face and opened his mouth to say something, just as Ginny entered.

“Hermione! You’re awake!” She called and wrapped Hermione in a hug so comforting it almost rivalled Molly’s. “We were so worried about you. When that house elf woke us last night and then Malfoy came over, holding you, unconscious-” She shook her head, rubbing at her face as if to rid herself of the picture. “What happened?”

Hermione didn’t answer her question. “Malfoy brought me here?”

Her friends exchanged a glance. “Yeah,” Ginny said. Harry almost knocked him out after he had put you down on the couch, but he just rambled something about the drawing room and to take care of you and how sorry he was and then he disappeared right back through the Floo. It was so weird, he looked horrified. We were about to take you to St. Mungo’s, but we found no injuries, so we set you up in here instead. What the hell happened?”

It took Hermione a few seconds to sort her thoughts. “I don’t know where to begin,” she rasped.

“How about at the beginning?” Ginny suggested and waved her wand, conjuring another cup of tea for Hermione when she noticed how hoarse the curly haired witch still was. Hermione looked at the couple, sitting on either side of her bed, equally concerned looks on their faces and took a fortifying sip of her tea before she told them what had happened, taking refuge in her tea when she needed a break every once in a while. Her friends listened intently, Harry grabbing her hand when she reached the part about Bellatrix. He knew how long it had taken her to get over her nightmares and that she still got them sometimes.

There was a minute of silence when Hermione had finished her story.

“I’m so sorry, ‘Mione,” Harry said then and hugged her. She breathed in his familiar, clean smell and blushed when she remembered the last time she had taken comfort in the smell of somebody else.

Fortunately for her, Ginny interrupted her line of thought.

“So, if I understand correctly, you got lost in the manor, ended up in the drawing room where that detestable woman hurt you, and ran into a Boggart that turned into her until Malfoy got you out and brought you here?”

Hermione nodded hesitantly. “It felt so _real_ , though,” she whispered, shuddering at the memory.

Harry hummed in understanding. He had practiced his _Patronus_ with a Boggart, after all, he knew exactly how real they could feel. “They really get into your head. When they made me hear my mum dying it felt like I was right there. I can’t imagine how much worse it must have been when even your surroundings fit your worst memory.”

She rubbed at her arms, thinking about the portraits and their slurs. They hadn’t exactly helped the situation.

“When Malfoy came in, I-” She took a shaking breath. “It was just like that day,” she continued, looking at Harry. “His expression was the same, it put me right back there. Oh Merlin, I think I yelled at him, but it was like I had never left that blasted room, like I was right back there. I felt her knife, cutting me, I-” She broke off, terrified even now, sitting in a bed in her friends’ house, eight years later.

“I hate that she still gets to me. I hate that I’m still afraid. I feel so _weak_! I don’t want her to win, that’s not how it was supposed to go. She has done so much damage already, why can’t I be stronger?”

Now Ginny cut back in, taking her hand. “Stop talking like that. She didn’t win. She’s dead and you’re not. She did horrible things to you, how could you not remember when you came to the very place where it happened? That doesn’t make you weak, it makes you human. You’re coping so well, you have been through so much, all of you,” she cast a knowing look at her husband, “but you all have scars. Don’t you dare be ashamed of them.”

There was a lump in Hermione’s throat that made it hard to breathe and her eyes were swimming when she hugged her redheaded friend. “Thank you, Gin,” she muttered. It felt good to have a friend who saw her for who she was, who saw all the scars and the baggage, not just the Brightest Witch of her Age, and still loved her and cared for her.

After she had regained her composure, Hermione sat back against the pillows again and wiped the tears off her face.

“Feeling better?” Harry asked and she smiled at him as she nodded.

“I just think that you have something to feel bad about now,” Ginny cut in, her eyes trained on Harry.

“Me? Why?”

“Well, from what we’ve just heard, I think you owe Malfoy an apology for hitting him.”

Harry huffed. “He had it coming. For years, actually, the git. And hey, anybody who shows up here with my unconscious best friend has it coming.” He smirked at Hermione and she giggled a little. Normally, she wasn’t one to like being treated like she couldn’t handle herself, but she did appreciate that he acted like her big brother sometimes. And yet…

“Ginny is right, though. Without him, I don’t know what would have happened. I’d probably be having a nice chat with Lockhart right now.”

“Oh, mum wouldn’t have minded visiting you,” Ginny quipped. “Although her infatuation severely suffered after he tried to obliviate Ron. Anyway,” she clapped her hands, “I’ll go down and make breakfast, you,” looking at Hermione, “go freshen up a little, then come downstairs. And you,” she said in Harry’s direction, “will go wake up the kids and get them ready for breakfast. And the next time you see Malfoy, you apologize.”

Harry waned at her glare. “Fine,” he said, but Hermione swore she heard him mutter something about “just another reason to avoid the stupid ferret” under his breath as he left the room and she smiled despite her exhaustion.

__________

Breakfast with the Potters turned out to be exactly what Hermione needed. It was hard to think of anything scary while James threw jam at his father’s glasses (now much more stylish than the model he had sported for most of his youth). Hermione laughed, ate some of the best pancakes she had had in a while, and enjoyed the feeling of being surrounded by family. After Harry had run off to work and the kids were busy playing upstairs, the two witches retired to the living room, coffee mugs in hand, and talked about all and nothing.

When the conversation turned to Hermione’s work, though, Ginny became serious again.

“You know that you don’t have to go back there, right? You are always welcome to stay with us, for however long you want.”

“I know, Gin, thanks, but you also know that I have good reasons to be there. Besides, I don’t believe in running away. I will just avoid the West wing from now on.”

Her friend took a sip of her coffee, pondering.

“He really did look awful last night, you know?” She said quietly. “Horrified. He sent over a house elf to wake us up and open the Floo and then there he was, standing in our living room, apologizing the entire time. I’ve never seen him like that, even at the battle. And when Harry punched him… He didn’t even fight back, he just took it, like he deserved it or something. Boy, I think this is the first time I have ever pitied Draco Malfoy.”

Hermione picked at a piece of lint on the sweater she had borrowed from Ginny.

“Yeah. Couldn’t have been fun for him, either, right?” She said lamely.

Ginny watched her closely. She seemed to hesitate for a moment before she said “Do you think-”

But Hermione would never knew what her friend had wanted to ask as both women were distracted by a large owl that chose that exact moment to click its beak against the window.

Ginny got up to get the letter the bird was carrying and feed it one of the owl treats from a bowl by the window. After reading the name on the envelope, she handed it to Hermione. “It’s for you.”

Hermione took it from her, wondering who had found out this quickly about her staying here and opened the letter. She recognized the neat handwriting in an instant.

_“Dear Miss Granger,_

_I hope this letter finds you safe and well with your friends. I sincerely apologize for the regrettable incident last night._

_Under the circumstances, I think it will be best to end your employment with us effective immediately. You will receive another three months’ pay, which I trust will give you enough time to find a new place of employment. Should you require more, feel free to contact either me or my solicitors and we will find an adequate solution._

_I have arranged for your belongings to be delivered to whichever location you desire. Please let me know which place suits you best or call for one of the elves for assistance. They have been instructed to help you with this matter._

_I would like to again express my regret concerning the unfortunate situation leading to this development and I have included the relevant contact information should you wish to take legal action._

_Cordially,  
Draco L. Malfoy”_


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I hope you guys are still reading this story so you can enjoy this brand new chapter I'm offering you! As always: let me know what you think, your comments and kudos really help me to keep this going! Lots of love <3

“Oh you have got to be fucking kidding me!”

“What does it say?”

“Sorry, Gin, but I need to go. Mind if I use your Floo?”

“Not at all. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah. I just need to straighten this out. That stupid- Never mind. Thank you so much Ginny, I’m sorry to leave like this. Please also say goodbye to Harry and the kids for me, will you?” She hugged her friend.

“Of course,” the redhead replied, returning the hug. “You’ll write?”

“I promise.” And with that, Hermione stepped into the flames and shouted the name of the place she had left only hours ago.

__________

She found him in his study, where he was sitting at the desk, going through some paperwork. He jumped when the door hit the wall from the force with which she had pushed it open. Hermione hadn’t realized how angry she was until she saw him sitting there, doing paperwork at the desk where he had probably written this ridiculous letter earlier.

“So you are just going to fire me?” She accused him, waving the letter in her hand.

Malfoy had dropped his quill when she had entered, but he ignored the spilled ink, apparently too surprised to see her standing in his study.

“Granger? What are you doing here?”

“What am I-” She gaped at him. “I am here to tell you that you can shove this piece of parchment up your arse! You can’t just go back on our agreement because the situation has become uncomfortable for you! That’s not how it works!”

His jaw dropped at her choice of words. “Uncomfortable? That’s what you call this?”

She huffed, crossing her arms and glaring at him. “Call it what you like, but you will not just kick me out like this! ‘should you want to take legal action’? Seriously?”

Malfoy looked distinctly uncomfortable. He avoided looking her in the face, now choosing to clean up his ruined documents instead.

“Malfoy!” She wasn’t nearly done with the conversation.

“What? What do you want me to say? I thought you had more than reason enough to want to leave! I thought I was doing the right thing for once, sending you your things so you didn’t have to come back here to collect them. And I would have understood had you wanted to come at me with everything you have for what happened, last night- and…” He trailed off, unwilling to finish the sentence.

“And?” Hermione hissed. “Go on, say it!”

He didn’t, dropping his eyes to the desk in front of him again and rubbing at a spot of ink with his index finger.

Hermione stepped closer. She wouldn’t let him off the hook this easily. She knew it was cruel, but for some reason she wanted to hear him acknowledge what had happened here, what his aunt had done to her.

“Finish the sentence, Malfoy.”

He jumped off his chair, trying to get away from her when he turned around and stared out the window onto the beautiful grounds of his childhood home. His shoulders were tense and he raked a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath as if to calm himself, but he remained silent.

Hermione lost her patience. “She tortured me. Your aunt tortured me on the floor of your drawing room, and you stood by and watched, doing absolutely nothing about it. There. I said it.”

Her voice was completely calm as she said it. She knew that she was hurting him, and even though she knew it was wrong, it helped her feel less powerless about the situation herself. The fact that she was able to hurt him with her worst memory, that she was able to use it like a weapon made her feel in control and less like a victim herself. Adrenaline shot through her at the cocktail of terror and power and she wanted to see his face. He still had his back turned to her, but she knew that her words had affected him from the way his breathing was too regular not to be consciously controlled and his fists were clenched at his sides. Was he shaking? She wanted a reaction! She wanted him to turn around and yell at her so she could dump all of this on him. Why should she have to carry this burden herself?

“Are you not going to say something? Don’t tell me you’re not proud of your dear auntie? Or do you not remember? It probably was nothing extraordinary to see the blood of a Mudblood spilled all over the floors, hm? Bet the house elves got pretty good at cleaning it up at som-”

She was cut off when he finally snapped, turning around. He grabbed her by the shoulders and slammed her into a bookshelf. “Stop,” he snarled, breathing hard. Hermione was sure she would have bruises the next day from how hard he was gripping her, but she didn’t care. She was livid, filled with an all-consuming anger and she had wanted him to react. She had provoked him to make him lash out and the pain his hands inflicted helped ground her.

“Stop what?” She attempted a smile, but it turned into a grimace when he shook her.

“You are doing this on purpose, you are enjoying it. Stop it,” he growled.

“Why?” Oh, how she liked that she was able to get a rise out of him! Just a little further and he would snap. He would lose control and she would have won, would not be the victim anymore. So she continued.

“It’s true. Your dear aunt Bellatrix tortured me, she threatened to have your friend Greyback rape me, and then she cut your favorite nickname for me into my skin where I carry it to this day because it won’t. Fucking. Heal!”

She had started off mockingly, in a singsong voice as thought she was telling him a rather amusing story, but she couldn’t hold back and spat the last words in his face. He closed his eyes and shook his head as if to block her out.

“Stop, stop, stop,” he whispered, desperate and almost manic now.

“Yeah, that’s what I asked her to do, but she wouldn’t,” Hermione said, and a tear rolled down her cheek and fell onto Ginny’s jumper. “But you did nothing,” she whispered, voice breaking as more tears streamed down her face. Malfoy was still holding her against the bookshelf, but he held himself as far away from her as possible, arms stretched, head hanging down so she could only see the shock of white blond hair on his head. His arms and shoulders were shaking.

“W-why didn’t you h-help?” She accused him between sobs. “You still won’t even l-look at m-me!”

Malfoy raised his head then and even though he wasn’t crying, he was grimacing in pain, eyes red and bloodshot. He was so close that she could feel his ragged breath cool on her wet face. They stared at each other for a second. Later, she didn’t know who had moved first, but suddenly she was no longer pressed against the bookshelf but held in his crushing embrace. Her hands were fisted in the fabric of his shirt as she buried her face in his chest, soaking it with her tears. He was holding her too tight, but at the moment it felt like it was all that was holding her together, as though she would shatter if it weren’t for his arms around her.

She was hysterical, crying so hard she was having trouble breathing, reliving the terrors of the worst day of her life. When she was beginning to fall into one of her panic attacks, Malfoy tightened his embrace even further. His arms pressed into her back and her entire body was shielded by his, his chest and upper body forming a cage around her, her head tucked under his chin, and somehow, it felt as though he was all around her, making her invisible and, thereby, untouchable. She breathed in his scent and felt herself calming down instead of falling further into the panic attack, until, finally, she was able to breathe again. Her tears ebbed, even as residual spasms shook her body. She sniffed, shuddering and squeezing her eyes shut as she tried to gather her bearings.

Malfoy seemed to sense that she was calming down and loosened his hold on her slightly. She raised her hands to wipe at her face and he stepped back, handed her a handkerchief, and returned to the desk to allow her some space. Hermione hiccupped as she dabbed the piece of fabric at her swollen eyes. He was the first to break the silence that followed.

“What are you doing here?” He asked quietly, handing her a cup of tea he had conjured while she regained her composure.

She turned to look at him, perched on his desk, his own cup of tea in hand.

“She can’t win. I won’t let her run me out of this house.”

His cool grey eyes met hers and she hated that he was able to hide his emotions so well when she had just shattered to pieces right in front of him. Neither of them acknowledged the way he had just held her.

“But what are you doing here? What are you getting out of this? The brightest third of the Golden Trio and you choose to accept a position nannying my son? What am I missing here?”

He was suspicious and she couldn’t blame him, she was concealing the true reason she was here, after all, but she wasn’t about to let him know about her research, and she sure as hell wouldn’t tell him about her parents. Distraction seemed like her best option.

“I felt bad for the kid. I thought if I had the chance to influence him I could stop him from becoming a spoiled little ponce.” She smirked evilly at him.

“Like his father, you mean.”

“I would never dare insinuate that my employer was a ponce,” she evaded his question, glad her tactics had worked. He caught her sarcastic tone and scoffed.

Picking up the letter she had dropped during her panic attack, she ripped it in two before his eyes.

“So we agree to pretend that you never sent this ridiculous letter?”

“Under one condition: You never, ever, enter the West wing again.”

“Did you not listen to me just now? I won’t let her drive me away! It was just a stupid Boggart, don’t you know what they say about falling off a horse and getting back in the saddle?”

Malfoy was unimpressed. “Never. Understood? I will fire you on the spot if I ever hear you set one foot even near that blasted place.” He looked mildly panicked at the thought and, begrudgingly, Hermione complied. It wasn’t exactly like she was eager to go back there.

“Why were you even there in the first place? I thought I had told you the West wing was off limits.”

“I got lost. Scorpius had a nightmare again and I was so tired from waking up all week that I forgot to watch where I was going on the way back. This mansion is just way too bloody huge!”

“Scorpius has been having nightmares?”

She raised one eyebrow at him. “Like you didn’t know! All of Durrington must have heard and your rooms are just across the hall!”

“My rooms,” he retorted, “are warded. No sound can go in or out.”

“Why?” She asked. “That’s terribly inconvenient when you have a five year old son!”

“Yes, but it is very convenient when you have the Dark Lord using your home as his home base,” he snapped, instantly looking like he thought he had said too much. “How long has he been having nightmares?”

“All week. It’s a little late for that phase, but I wouldn’t worry about it for now.”

He nodded, thinking. “And you have been getting up every night to calm him down, wandering through the manor by yourself?”

“Actually, it has been more like two or three times a night.”

“That’s inacceptable.”

She huffed in frustration. “I am not sending the elves to look after him at night!”

“I wasn’t telling you to. But we will move your quarters to the South wing so you don’t have to traipse across the entire manor at night. And I want you to place that alarm on my wand, too, so we can take turns looking after him at night.”

She gaped at him at that suggestion and he looked slightly embarrassed.

“I pay you to teach him, you’re no good to me when you’re too tired to use that brain of yours,” he offered lamely, but she didn’t believe him. As forcing him into a healthier relationship with his son was one of her most pressing goals, though, Hermione refrained from calling him on his lie and showed him how to place the child alarm on his wand instead. It was strange for her to touch his wand, and be allowed to do so, no less, but considering the way he had held her minutes ago, she supposed it was not the most intimate thing that had passed between them that day.

When the charm was finally in place, Hermione couldn’t wait to get out of his office. She was embarrassed that he had seen her unravel earlier, and she was exhausted beyond measure from her breakdown, the events of last night, and the sleepless nights before that. Malfoy surprised her once again when he caught on to her state.

“I’ll take tonight. You should get some rest. Take the day, I’ll have the elves move everything to the South wing and you can catch up on some sleep.”

Hermione nodded, grateful, but too proud to admit how much she needed it. She was half way out the door when he called her back. “Granger.”

She turned around, looking at him expectantly when he didn’t continue. He braced himself before meeting her gaze. “I’m sorry.”

Her eyes widened. They were such simple words, but she knew what he was saying, and although he was still too cowardly to come out and offer her a proper apology, she knew how much this meant coming from an arrogant arse like Malfoy, and she hadn’t expected it. Finally, she tore her eyes away from his, nodded once in acknowledgement, and fled the room.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a new chapter for you! Sorry it took me so long. Hope you enjoy it regardless. Also, I really need to thank all of you for reading, reviewing and leaving kudos! I never expected this, you're the best! Lots of love <3

It took the elves no time at all to move her things to the South wing. Hermione thought it was a little strange that she was now supposed to spend her nights only a couple doors down from Malfoy himself, but the advantage of having Scorpius so close by and not being forced to walk around the manor at night clearly outweighed this inconvenience.

Crooks seemed put out by the new quarters at first, but he would adjust. He was not the only one of Hermione’s belongings to suffer from the move, though. Sighing, Hermione regarded her computer. It was hard enough as it was to get it to work around all the magic and she only used it for communication with her parents and some of her contacts in the Muggle world, but now that it had been exposed to the elves’ magic, it refused to turn on at all. Maybe leaving it alone for a bit would help, she thought, and gave up.

She spent the rest of her day writing the letter to Ginny she had promised the other witch, getting familiar with the changed view outside her windows, and catching up on her reading. Since Malfoy had told her he’d cover for her with Scorpius and she didn’t know how to face him, she ate dinner in her room and went to bed early to finally catch up on some sleep. The bed was incredibly comfortable and she pulled the covers around herself, smiled as she felt the mattress move a little when Crookshanks climbed up on the bed, and drifted off to sleep.

Loud pounding at the door woke her. Hermione scrambled out of bed, grabbed her wand and braced herself for whatever horrid thing could be outside her door. The image of Bellatrix flashed through her head and she shook it, willing the ghost of that woman away. It was dark inside her quarters and she cast a quick lumos, feeling safer in the familiar blue light of her wand. The door shook in its hinges. Merlin, whoever was out there was basically trying to break it down to get inside!

“Granger, wake up!”

Who would’ve thought she would ever be relieved to hear Malfoy’s voice? Hermione let out the breath she had been holding and lowered her wand slightly. But what was he doing here in the middle of the night? Carefully, she approached the door and opened it, only to be forced to dodge Malfoy’s fist as he raised it to bang on the wood again.

“Merlin, Malfoy, what has gotten into you?”

She sized him up, from his disheveled hair over his pajamas (silk, seriously?) to his – were those _slippers_? About to make a snide remark on his sleep attire, she was cut off.

“Granger, thank- You need to come with me!”

“What? Where?”

He raked a hand through his hair, his eyes scanning the corridor frantically. “Scorpius, something’s wrong, I don’t know what I did, but I- He won’t stop crying-”

Hermione didn’t wait for him to finish his rambling. She swore under her breath and ran down the corridor to Scorpius’ rooms, mind reeling. What had happened? Was he sick? She had heard of so many illnesses that could befall children in her medical training in the Muggle world and there were so many more when it came to magical children! Thanking the heavens that she didn’t have to cross the entire manor anymore in order to get to her charge, she barged into the little boy’s room. He was sitting on his bed and, indeed, crying hysterically.

In an instant, Hermione was by his side, Malfoy right behind her. She scooped little Scorpius up in her arms and sat on his bed so she could use her hands to check for any injuries or anomalies. She found none. Still worried, she cast a diagnostic charm on him, but other than a slightly elevated heart rate there was nothing wrong. As the child slowly calmed down, her own heartbeat gradually returned to a normal pace as well and she finally chanced a look at his father.

Malfoy stood a few feet away, hands crossed behind his neck, and stared at them. Scorpius sniffled quietly and grabbed one of her curls, a sure sign that he was about to fall asleep again.

“How did you do that?” Malfoy seemed genuinely baffled. “When I came in here, he just started screaming and calling for you, and no matter what I did, it only got worse!” He wiped his face with both hands and fell into the rocking chair Hermione usually occupied when Scorpius couldn’t sleep.

“Seriously? What the hell, Malfoy! You just called me in here because you couldn’t get him to bed? I thought something was seriously wrong!” She was sure that her reprimand would have been much more intimidating had she not angry-whispered it to avoid waking up the sleeping child in her arms.

“Something was wrong! You should have heard him screaming! I thought he was having a fit!”

She laughed at him. “Come on, this was nothing. You can’t even handle the nightmares of a five year old?”

The change in his demeanor was instantaneous. His face closed off, his posture straightened, and he got up, all the distant Malfoy heir again. “Well, you have it under control now, so I will retire to my own rooms. Good night.”

Unbelievable! Why did she feel bad now?

“Malfoy, wait!”

He turned around, his trademark scowl in place as he looked at her.

She sighed and rubbed soothing circles on Scorpius’ back, remembering that this was all about the little boy who had fallen asleep clutching a lock of her hair. “I know it’s frightening when you can’t tell why he’s upset and you can’t seem to calm him down again. I told you, he’s been having nightmares, so he’s really scared when he wakes up. You just need to pick him up and calm him down. See?” She indicated the child snoring softly in her arms.

“I tried that. It didn’t work. Must be because you’re a woman.”

Her hands automatically balled into fists and she took a deep breath to steady herself. “That’s utter bullshit. He responds to me because I have come running for weeks when there was something wrong. He trusts me, that’s why I can calm him down.”

Malfoy’s face contorted in a grimace and for a second she thought he was going to yell at her. He didn’t. “That’s settled, then. You’re much better suited to do this, so I’ll stay out of your hair from now on. Both of you.”

He was about to leave again and she had to stifle a frustrated growl. “You – argh! No, all I’m saying is that he needs to get used to you! Spend a little time with him and he will respond just as well to you as he does to me. I’ve only been here a few weeks, remember?”

“So what do you propose?”

“You keep that wand alarm on and you keep showing up here to take care of him. You show him you’re here for him and it’ll work out in no time.”

For a moment, he looked almost scared, but the indifferent mask was back in place quickly. “Looking to get out of your duties, Granger?”

“Yes, you caught me,” she said sarcastically. “Believe me, if I would let petulant children drive me away, I would’ve been gone long before I met Scorpius.” He glared at her, but ignored the jab. “I will help,” she offered. “We will do this together.”

Malfoy seemed to consider her offer, but then surprised her when he stepped closer and stroked his son’s hair once before resuming his position by the door. “Fine.”

“Here, you take him,” she said and motioned to the sleeping child. Malfoy sat down next to her and she carefully lifted his son and helped settle him in his lap. Their position was a little awkward, Malfoy looked like he had never held a child before, holding the sleeping child upright in a sitting position. With Scorpius still holding on to Hermione’s hair, her head was pulled forward and her cheek rested against Malfoy’s outstretched arms. When she tried to loosen the child’s grip, she lost her balance and fell into the man beside her, her hand coming to rest on his thigh. Very high on his thigh. He flinched and she felt her cheeks flush as she tried to pull away. In her haste, her hand slid even further up his leg and she was now definitely touching his groin. Hermione jumped away from the two Malfoys, falling off the bed in the process. Her eyes teared up in pain when she ripped her hair out of Scorpius’ hands and the boy was jolted awake, crying once again. Malfoy was probably staring at her, but she didn’t dare looking at him.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, the words muffled by her hands which she tried to hide her face behind.

They must make quite the sight; her on the floor, completely embarrassed and blushing like a virgin, Malfoy on the bed, most likely either about to curse her or start yelling, holding his son in that very awkward grip, while Scorpius was wailing pitifully.

Malfoy cleared his throat. “Uhm, do something?” The look on his face as he regarded his son would have made Hermione laugh, had her brain not been too busy trying to forget that she had just groped her employer. She decided to focus on Scorpius instead, shuffled off the floor and sat back down on the bed.

“Don’t hold him like that,” she instructed, avoiding his gaze like it was the plague. She shifted Scorpius in his father’s lap, settling him against the pajama-clad chest, and settling Malfoy’s arms around him. “There, isn’t that better?” She asked and stroked the boy’s hair. When she looked up at Malfoy, she realized just how close they were and hurried to move back a little. Merlin, why was she being so awkward tonight?

The blond smirked as he watched her retreat. “If you keep this up I might have to add a sexual harassment clause to your contract, Granger.”

She scoffed. “You wish, ferret.”

His brows knit together at her use of the old insult from their school days. “Aren’t we fond of that little nickname? I’m surprised to see you of all people supporting a teacher’s abuse of their power.” Hermione wanted to defend herself, but she couldn’t think of a clever retort. He waited for a minute, then shook his head as if disappointed.

“Anyway,” he drawled. “I think I have it handled now,” he nodded to the child in his arms, asleep once again, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

He was sending her to her room! Equal parts embarrassed and angry, but still at a loss for words, she stormed out of the room and back to her own quarters. She hadn’t been this flustered in quite some time. Leave it to Malfoy to make her feel like the buck teethed girl at Hogwarts again! Groaning, she buried her face in her pillows and hoped that she would awake in the morning to find it had all been a stupid nightmare.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everybody! I'm terribly sorry to have gone AWOL on you for such a long time :( I had lots to do lately, but I took some time to write this weekend, so here's a new update! I hope you like it and that you'll forgive me for the delay. Thanks to everybody who kept reading and reviewing, you really motivated me to continue this.
> 
> Also, I caught some mistakes in earlier chapters which I'll correct soon. If you ever find mistakes in my work please let me know! I don't have a beta, so I sometimes overlook things and I hate that when I read fanfiction myself...
> 
> Okay, now without further ado and lots of love: Here goes the new chapter!

It hadn’t been a nightmare, of course. Hermione Granger had no such luck, she should have known. Masking her discomfort with a purposefully confident attitude, Hermione strolled into the dining room the next morning like she owned the place. She was determined not to let Malfoy throw her off again today. Honestly, she didn’t even understand why she felt so embarrassed. Sure, she hadn’t exactly been graceful last night, but it was only Malfoy, for heaven’s sake! Although, perhaps that was exactly the problem. Making a fool out of yourself in front of your childhood bully was never a pleasant experience, and it didn’t help that hers was a kind of handsome aristocrat and her employer. Who had also once believed that killing her would not only be acceptable, but even a brilliant idea. Anyway, Hermione decided she would just ignore last night like it had never happened.

Fortunately for her, Malfoy seemed determined to do the same. Neither of them mentioned the previous evening and breakfast went by without any major incidents. Hermione watched Scorpius eat a waffle drenched in maple syrup, then grinning at Tinky and thanking the elf. She realized that she had grown quite fond of the boy. Originally, she had only come here for the money and the library, but as she watched him blabber to his father, smiling wide, a bit of syrup on his nose, she decided that she would make it her mission to turn Malfoy into a decent father for his son. She wouldn’t be here forever and she couldn’t stand the thought of Scorpius turning back into the spoiled kid he had been when she arrived (and still was on occasion).

So she asked Malfoy if he would consider going into town with Scorpius and her. He declined, as she had expected. The two of them went anyway, and they had a lovely afternoon which Hermione used to further introduce Scorpius to the Muggle world.

That night, Hermione’s wand alarm buzzed and she got up, only to meet Malfoy outside Scorpius’ door. She was glad that he had actually come, even if at the same time she would have liked to keep avoiding him. As always, Scorpius stretched his little arms out towards her as soon as he saw her. Being completely ignored obviously didn’t sit well with his father, but he remained silent as they sat on the bed. Tonight, Hermione chose to read to Scorpius, one of the tactics that worked best with the little boy when he woke up from a bad dream. The blond man who had settled against the headboard threw her off a little at first, but as soon as she had read the first lines of Babbity Rabbity, she fell into her usual routine, stroking Scorpius’ hair and reading to him softly while completely ignoring his father.

When she finished the story, Scorpius was sound asleep again. She was about to ask Malfoy to tuck the boy back in when she turned to see that he, too, had fallen asleep. Hermione smiled to herself, briefly considered waking him up and then decided not to. Instead, she laid the small boy next to his father, turned off the lights and shut the door behind her as quietly as she could.

__________

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Malfoy accosted her the next morning.

She just shrugged and smiled. “I thought it would do you two some good. Quality time and all that, you know?”

“I’ll tell you how much good it did me! My neck was so stiff when I woke up that I had to summon two pain potions from my chambers just to be able to climb out of that bed!”

“Oh, tough,” she teased. “I bet that was the longest period of time you ever spent so close to your son without anybody else present. And you were both asleep during it. What does that tell you?”

With that, she left him standing in the dining room and went searching her charge. She heard him mumbling something about “meddling little,” and what she sincerely hoped hat been the word “witch,” not something else entirely.

__________

The next night, Malfoy forbade that she read a book, so they sat in silence instead until Scorpius fell asleep and then Malfoy tucked him in. They didn’t exchange ten words the entire night.

__________

On Thursday, Hermione asked Malfoy if he wanted to come to town with the two of them, as she had every day this week. He declined, as he had every time she asked the question.

So Hermione and Scorpius spent the morning on the boy’s lessons, had lunch and then went to town together. They had run into Sophie and Stephan again who invited Scorpius over for a playdate. Hermione made sure Malfoy couldn’t forbid it by not asking him for permission in the first place. They had played together on Thursday while the two women had tea together and chatted. Sophie was smart and interesting, and Hermione could see herself becoming friends with the other woman. The boys, too, had gotten along splendidly, and Hermione was glad to see Scorpius interacting with a child his age, knowing how important it was for his development, as well as his well-being.

She was also glad that Sophie apparently didn’t hold a grudge against them after Malfoy had treated her so rudely the first time around. Quite the contrary; the woman was curious about the family nobody in town knew anything about, but she wasn’t nosey, and she was more than happy with the idea of the two boys meeting more often. She told Hermione about a junior league football team that Stephan was a part of. They met on Saturdays, and she invited Hermione to come and bring Scorpius so he could see if maybe he wanted to join as well. Hermione herself thought it was a wonderful idea, but she wasn’t sure that Malfoy would agree. Okay, that was a lie, she knew that he wouldn’t agree. Yet she told Sophie she’d see what she could do as they said their goodbyes, and she was resolved to make this happen for Scorpius. Surely his father would see reason when he saw the exhausted, but happy expression on his son’s face? Hermione remembered just how often it happened that Draco Malfoy responded well to reason and groaned silently. That football league had better be worth the trouble!

__________

Scorpius fell asleep during dinner. Malfoy thought it was inappropriate. Hermione thought it was adorable. He was still holding on to his pumpkin juice with one hand, but his head had come to lay on the table and he was snoring softly.

“What did you do to him? He knows better than to fall asleep at the dining table! Scorpius!”

“Shh, would you stop? Don’t wake him up, he’s exhausted! Let him sleep.” She got up to carry the boy to his room. Malfoy watched her suspiciously as she rounded the table.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Hermione sighed. This was it, then. “He was on a playdate.”

“A what?” His confusion was evident.

“A playdate. We ran into Sophie earlier this week and she invited us over to her house today so Scorpius could play with her son.”

The legs of his chair made a terrible scratching sound on the floor as he stood abruptly. “You brought my son to a stranger’s house?”

“Yes, but-”

“Without telling me?” He was really working himself up now.

“Yes, but-”

“Are you out of your mind? Anything could have happened! Did I not tell you explicitly that I didn’t want Scorpius anywhere near any strangers, especially not without my permission?”

“You did, but-”

“So how in Salazar’s name would you think this was acceptable? I should fire you right on the spot! You are-”

“Malfoy!” Hermione had had enough. “First of all, keep it down! Your son is sleeping, deservedly so. And if you wake him up now, he will be cranky and unhappy and I will make you calm him down because it will be your fault.”

That at least got him to shut up. Seizing the moment, she continued. “There was not one moment when your son was in danger, believe me. I care about his safety, too, but we talked about this: He needs friends. He gets along well with Stephan and Sophie is really nice, so I’m not apologizing for meeting with them. You had the chance to accompany us, remember? Besides, nobody in Durrington knows who you are, who you _really_ are, so if there is a safe way to let your son meet children his age, it’s taking him to that Muggle town.”

Not waiting for a reply, Hermione gathered the sleeping boy in her arms and left to take him to his bed. Maybe his father would be more reasonable the next morning.

__________

“I was thinking of taking Scorpius to town again today,” she announced at breakfast, catching Malfoy’s attention. “Care to join us?”

His eyes widened. Hermione could tell that he was distinctly uncomfortable with the idea by the way he fidgeted with his napkin, but she just kept looking at him expectantly.

“I don’t know,” he finally said. “I have a ton of research to do for work…”

“Don’t you own the company? I think that gives you the right to take an afternoon off to spend with your son, especially since I know for a fact that you work on weekends and evenings.”

He still didn’t seem convinced, so she continued. “Look, I’ll even help with your research tonight.” She indicated Scorpius with her head. “Come on. It’ll be good for you.”

Malfoy looked at his son who was bouncing on his chair, following the exchange between the adults with an excited look on his face. When he saw how invested the boy was in her idea, he sighed and put the napkin back on the table. “Fine,” he sighed. “But we go after lunch, I need to get some things sorted out first.”

That was quite alright with Hermione who had wanted to spend the morning with Scorpius and his lessons anyway. Her charge squealed happily, but ran to hug her legs instead of his father’s, who frowned at his son, but forced an indifferent look onto his face as soon as he noticed her looking at him.

Hermione had a hard time getting the boy to focus on his lessons this morning. He was fidgeting in his chair, making lists of all the things he wanted to show his father, and asking her every five minutes if it was time for lunch yet. She wondered if this was perhaps the first outing Scorpius had had with his father and the thought made her sad for the both of them.

When lunchtime finally came, Hermione could have sworn she was just as relieved as Scorpius. They had gotten some studying done when she had embraced the trip to town, making him study the spelling for words like “car” or “city,” but it had definitely not been their most effective day yet.

She was a little nervous that Malfoy could have changed his mind over the course of the morning after having gotten his son’s hopes up, but it turned out that her worries were unnecessary. Malfoy didn’t exactly seem eager to go out, but she got the feeling that he was trying to make an effort with Scorpius, and that was enough for her. At least for the moment.

The three of them met at the front door after lunch. Malfoy looked up when he heard them approach and his eyes went wide as saucers.

“What?” Hermione asked, noticing his expression.

It took him a moment to compose himself. “What are you _wearing_ , Granger?” He sounded as though she had forgotten to put on her pants, causing her to look down and check. Nope, everything was the way it should be; she was wearing a pair of skinny jeans, sneakers, and a sweatshirt. She saw no reason for him to look at her like that.

“They are Muggle clothes, Malfoy. Jeans and a sweatshirt. I know you probably think it’s too casual, but-“

“Too _casual_? Have you seen yourself? Go change, right now!”

“What? No! This is typical Muggle clothing, it’s what everybody in that town will be wearing!”

“Are you telling me that all Muggle women are dressed in garments like this?” He gestured to her jeans.

“Yes! Seriously, don’t you think I know my way around a Muggle town a little better than you do? Besides, you’re the one who should be concerned about their outfit!”

“Why?” He questioned and looked down at his robes. They were the latest fashion in the wizarding world and closely resembled Muggle clothing, but from the wrong century.

“You look like a wizard.”

“I _am_ a wizard!”

She rolled her eyes and mumbled to herself “Maybe my next project should be inventing a patience charm.” Louder, she added “Don’t you have a jumper or something?”

He looked so horrified at the notion that she took it as a no.

“May I?”

His expression remained wary, but after a minute, he nodded. She concentrated and transfigured his robes into a smart 3-piece suit. “Much better. What do you think?”

Malfoy looked at his reflection in the large mirror of the manor’s foyer. He pulled on the suit’s sleeves a little and shrugged. “It’ll do, I suppose.”

Knowing that that was about as much praise as she would get from a Malfoy, Hermione settled for that answer and opened the front door. Scorpius hurried up to her and took her hand in his much smaller one, tugging on it to make her hurry up.

“Where are you going?”

She turned to look at the blond man. “To town.”

“You want to walk?”

“I am very fond of walking,” she said and giggled, but of course he didn’t get the reference. “We can’t very well Floo there now, can we?” She explained. He rolled his eyes, but she swore he also looked a little sheepish when he followed her outside and onto the grounds.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys! You guyyyys! :D Wow, I'm so happy about all the support and the many reviews I received from you! It really makes my day when I see an e-mail telling me that I have a new comment on this story. I honestly never would have thought this story would get so much recognition, but I'm over the moon! I also think it's funny that so many of you seem to dislike Sophie. She hasn't done anything - yet! ;) I'm joking, but she will keep showing up in the next chapters.
> 
> Anyways, here's an update, fairly decent length, I think, so I hope you enjoy!
> 
> As always, lots of love! <3

It actually was a really nice day, considering it was only April. The sun was shining and the first signs of spring began to show around them. Scorpius, at least, was enjoying himself immensely. He kept running ahead of the two adults, shouting and pointing at random things that caught his attention. Every now and again, he would come running back to them and ask Hermione if they would see cars again, or if there were airplanes in Durrington (his latest coloring book had gotten to him), or if they could go by the traffic light again. She laughed, delighted to see him so happy, and answered all of his questions seriously.

Still, it wasn’t the same as the other times she had taken the boy to town. She noticed that he didn’t feel comfortable addressing the tall blond man that was walking beside her, focusing on her instead. Perhaps he wasn’t used to going out with his father, she thought, and although it also made her a little sad for the both of them, at least it meant that what they were doing was a step in the rif´ght direction.

She was acutely aware of Malfoy herself. So far, he hadn’t said anything, seemingly lost in thought. Scorpius provided some disctraction for the both of them, but after a while she decided she’d had enough of the tense silence between them and asked him about his potions project. Like she had hoped, it was a relatively safe topic, and he immediately began updating her on the progress he’d made on the scar removal potion he had worked on when she had surprised him in his lab that one night. However, his heart wasn’t completely in the conversation, and soon they fell silent again.

“So what do you usually do when you go to town?” He eventually asked.

“Oh, you know, this and that. Scorpius gets really excited about the most ordinary Muggle things. You heard him talking about cars and planes, and traffic lights. We haven’t been here all that much, but I’ve taken him to the book store once-“ He snorted, but she ignored him, continuing “-so we could get him a new coloring book, and then, of course, we met Sophie and Stephan the last time we came here.”

Just like that, his expression became serious again. “About that, Granger-“

She interrupted him before he could get any farther. “No, Malfoy, I’m not debating this with you. I know you probably have your reasons for being so protective of your son, but I assure you that Sophie and her boy are perfectly harmless. The Muggles don’t really care about your last name, and it’s good for Scorpius to have a friend his age. Which is why I want to talk to you about tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

At least she had succeeded in taking his mind off the playdate with Stephan. Of course, that had been the easy part.

“Yes. Tomorrow, there is a gathering of the junior football league in Durrington. Sophie told me about it yesterday, appearantly Stephan is a part of it. She asked if Scorpius would like to come, and I think it’s a great idea.”

“The junior what?”

“Football league.” She looked at him expectantly and was met with a puzzled expression.

“Oh, right, it’s all Quiddtich and Gobstones with you, isn’t it?”

He scoffed. “Correction. It’s Quiddtich only.”

She just rolled her eyes, she had had this argument with Ron and Harry enough to know that there was no getting through to a wizard when it came to Quidditch. “Okay. Football is something like the Muggle version of Quiddtich. Although I could imagine that really, Quidditch is the wizards’ version of football, since wizarding society is usually a few steps behind the Muggles…” Sensing that Malfoy was about to interrupt her, she hastened to continue. “Anyway, like I said, football and Quidditch are actually pretty similar, I think. Many Muggle children and adults engage in the sport and there seems to be a children’s league in Durrington that Stephan, Sophie’s son is a part of, and she invited Scorpius to come and check it out.”

He said nothing. After a couple steps she inquired “Malfoy?”

“Football is like Muggle Quiddtich?”

“Yes.” Correcting him right now wouldn’t help her cause.

“There is a Muggle group playing that sport?”

“Muggle children, yes.”

“And you want Scorpius to go?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Malfoy!”

“I said no, Granger. You have already taken him to see that one Muggle boy – without my permission, may I add, and I’m still not happy about it – but no matter what you claim, an entire group is much more risky. There is no way for you to protect him there. So, no, he’s not going.”

She huffed, frustrated. “How many times do I have to tell you: There is no need for him to be protected. We are talking about a small town sports group, for heaven’s sake! Children! Honestly, you are so paranoid!”

He was about to retort, but the were interrupted by Scorpius, who came running to them. They had reached the town during their argument and were now standing at the first traffic light.

“Look, Hermione, look!” The little boy exclaimed and pointed at the red figure indicating that it wasn’t safe for pedestrians to cross the street just now.

“I see it, Scorpius,” Hermione laughed. “And what does the red man mean?”

“We have to wait! Because there are cars!”

“Exactly! Aren’t you one smart little boy? Do you want to push the button, Scorpius?”

“Yes, can I? Please!”

“Push the button?” Malfoy looked puzzled. “Why do you want to push the button, Scorpius?”

“The button makes the man go green and the cars stop so we can go!” Scorpius explained, looking at Hermione for confirmation that he had gotten it right. She nodded reassuringly. But Scorpius was no longer paying attention to her, he was too distracted by the cars in the street. Seemingly without noticing it, he had grabbed her hand in excitement and was now staring out into the street. She chuckled a little. It was adorable, the way he marveled at anything Muggle, and it reminded her of the wonder she had felt when she was introduced to the magical world. The signal turned green, and Scorpius immediately started tugging on her hand.

“We can go, come on, dad!” He used his free hand to grab that of his father and pulled on it. They were forming a chain now, Scorpius the link that connected the two adults. To any passerby, it must have looked like they were a normal family. The thought gave Hermione a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach.

The three of them crossed the street. They were now getting closer to the city centre, and Hermione noticed that the blond man beside her was becoming more and more uncomfortable. He said nothing, but he was jumpy, and he eyed every person they came across with his signature scowl on his face.

The first place they went to was the stationary store. It was no Flourish & Blotts, of course, but it was neat and tidy, and very well organized. Scorpius ran straight to the section with the children’s books while Hermione picked up a few new pencils. Her charge was very fond of the color red, and he kept dropping his pencils, so the red one needed to be replaced soon. She then joined the Malfoys in the children’s section, where Scorpius was pulling out all the books that had some kind of machinery on the cover. Malfoy looked a little awkward as his son blabbered on, but he seemed genuinely interested at least.

“What is this big red car here?”

“It’s a fire truck! When there is a fire, the cars go out and spray water on it.”

“What, with their wands?”

“No, dad,” the boy chuckled and explained patiently. “They don’t have wands, they are Muggles! They have water in their car, in these snake things, and sooo much water comes out of them! Then the fire goes out. Look, here is another one!”

After watching the pair for a while, secretly loving the way the two talked, Hermione reminded the little boy that he could get one book, and one book only, stopping his father with a glare when she saw him starting to object. She was well aware that Malfoy could have bought the entire store, had he felt like it, but how was Scorpius to learn how to appreciate his belongings if he could always get exactly what he wanted?

The older Malfoy relented, and his son spread out all the books on the floor, sitting in the middle of them, a serious pout on his face, as he tried to make this impossible decision. His father, in the meantime, had pulled out another children’s book, and after reading the cover, he handed it to her with raised eyebrows. She took one look at the cover and knew exactly where the look on his face came from. It was Hansel and Gretel.

“So that’s how Muggles see witches?” She wasn’t sure if he was angry or amused, but she blushed anyway.

“It’s a fairytale, Malfoy. It was first published in the early 19th century, so it’s not exactly scientific. Besides, Muggles today don’t even know that witches or wizards exist, so you can’t tell anything from an old children’s book.”

He didn’t look convinced. “The fact that this is supposed to be a children’s book doesn’t help your case. It’s barbaric.”

Inwardly, she agreed, never a big fan of fairytales herself, but she couldn’t admit that to him. “Oh, because the tale of the three brothers is so heartwarming?”

He scowled.

“See? Fairytales usually try to teach a lesson. In this one, there are two children who live in times of hunger, whose parents are willing to abandon them, who are sent to a dark forest, being held by a scary witch, and who still overcome all these obstacles, all these fundamental fears of childhood, and manage to come out of it alive and – relatively – well. The witch herself is just another thing to fear, but she has no real magical features. Really, the fact that she is a witch plays no central role in the story, other than perhaps for the fact that she lives in a house made of candy-“

She looked up at him again and saw him studying her. Shit. She had inadvertedly launched herself into a lecture. Why did this happen to her all the time? She would get riles up and excited by some topic, and next thing she knew, everybody around her looked at her like she had three heads.

“Whatever,” she said, trying to hide her embarrassment. “It’s just a book. I don’t like fairytales anyway, I don’t think they are fit for children to read.”

Fortunately for her, Scorpius made his decision at this exact moment, giving her an excuse not to meet Malfoy’s eyes.

She quickly grabbed the book Scorpius wanted (something about fire trucks), and the pencils, and went to the cashier. Just as the clerk was about to announce the price, the book about Hansel and Gretel was set down on top of the other items. Hermione chanced a look at her employer, but he just shrugged.

“You were so excited about it, I want to know what the fuss is all about.”

After a second trying to come up with a smart answer and coming up short, she turned her attention back to the lady behind the counter and managed to give her a somewhat convincing smile.

“The fairytale, too, if you please.”

Was he trying to make fun of her? She didn’t understand his behavior. Lost in thought, she paid the books and writing utensils and accepted the small bag containing the items, before they left the shop.

“Was that Muggle currency?”

“What?” Why was he asking that now? He was trying to get to her today, wasn’t he? Asking all of these questions, staring at her. She couldn’t make sense of it and that frustrated her.

“It was a simple question. That paper you just handed over, that was Muggle money, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” she replied distractedly, looking around to determine which road they had to take to get to the playground. “I exchanged it. You can do that at Gringotts.”

“Huh. Why don’t people just print it themselves?”

“That would be illegal!”

“And Muggles never do anything illegal?” He questioned.

“No, I, of course, but-“ She sighed and pulled out her purse to show him some bills. “See the way a pattern shows up here when you hold it against the light? It’s a watermark, a way to test the authenticity of the bill. Then there’s the paper and the serial number, there are all kinds of mechanisms to allow the Muggle banks to determine whether the bill is fake or not. It happens sometimes, counterfeiting, but not all that often.”

He nodded, taking the bill from her to inspect it more closely. “But why don’t they just use gold coins, like we do? Their worth can’t be faked.”

She considered it for a moment. “They did, at some point. I think it’s probably a matter of resources. There are so many Muggles around, but gold is scarce, It’s used for other things in the Muggle world. Besides, this allows for a whole different system. A Muggle bank account, for example, is electronic. It shows a number, but there is no physical place where it’s stored. They get a card that allows them access to their account, and they can go to these machines that are distributed all over the world, and withdraw the amount of money they need. No need to carry around an entire pound of gold all the time.”

Malfoy was still looking at the 5 pound note in his hand. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

He shrugged. “It sounds like a complicated system, but I suppose I can see the perks.” With that, he returned her money to her. “You are charging this to my account at Gringotts, though, right?”

Hermione nodded, unable to reply for the moment. Why wasn’t he taunting her? He seemed genuinely interested in understanding the things he had asked her about. This was a side of him she didn’t know, and she wasn’t sure how to handle it.


End file.
